"Let us be grateful to people who make us happy, they are the charming gardeners who make our souls blossom."
"At that time, he was satisfying a sensual curiosity by experiencing the pleasures of people who live for love. He had believed he could stop there, that he would not be obliged to learn their sorrows; how small a thing her charm was for him now compared with the astounding terror that extended out from it like a murky halo, the immense anguish of not knowing at every moment what she had been doing, of not possessing her everywhere and always!"
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Source: Marcel Proust (2003). “In Search of Lost Time: The Way by Swann's”, p.369, Penguin UK
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