"Let us be grateful to people who make us happy, they are the charming gardeners who make our souls blossom."
"And wasn't my mind also like another crib in the depths of which I felt I remained ensconced, even in order to watch what was happening outside? When I saw an external object, my awareness that I was seeing it would remain between me and it, lining it with a thin spiritual border that prevented me from ever directly touching its substance; it would volatize in some way before I could make contact with it, just as an incandescent body brought near a wet object never touches its moisture because it is always preceded by a zone of evaporation."
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Source: Marcel Proust (2003). “Swann's Way”, Viking Press
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