A woman one loves rarely suffices for all our needs, so we deceive her with another whom we do not love.
MARCEL PROUSTLove ever unsatisfied, lives always in the moment that is about to come.
More Marcel Proust Quotes
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Love is a striking example of how little reality means to us.
MARCEL PROUST -
If a little dreaming is dangerous, the cure for it is not to dream less but to dream more, to dream all the time.
MARCEL PROUST -
Only by art can we get outside ourselves, instead of seeing only one world, our own, we see it under multiple forms.
MARCEL PROUST -
An hour is not merely an hour, it is a vase full of scents and sounds and projects and climates.
MARCEL PROUST -
My destination is no longer a place, rather a new way of seeing.
MARCEL PROUST -
When from a long distant past nothing subsists after the things are broken and scattered, the smell and taste of things remain.
MARCEL PROUST -
It has been said that beauty is a promise of happiness. Conversely, the possibility of pleasure can be a beginning of beauty.
MARCEL PROUST -
The creation of the world did not occur at the beginning of time, it occurs every day.
MARCEL PROUST -
Time passes, and little by little everything that we have spoken in falsehood becomes true.
MARCEL PROUST -
The bonds that unite us to another human being are sanctified when he or she adopts the same point of view as ourselves in judging one of our imperfections.
MARCEL PROUST -
Desire makes everything blossom.
MARCEL PROUST -
To write that essential book, a great writer does not need to invent it but merely to translate it, since it already exists in each one of us. The duty and task of a writer are those of translator.
MARCEL PROUST -
Remembrance of things past is not necessarily the remembrance of things as they were.
MARCEL PROUST -
The courage of one’s opinions is always a form of calculating cowardice in the eyes of the other side.
MARCEL PROUST -
Thanks to art, instead of seeing one world, our own, we see it multiplied and as many original artists as there are, so many worlds are at our disposal.
MARCEL PROUST