"Let us be grateful to people who make us happy, they are the charming gardeners who make our souls blossom."
"I find very reasonable the Celtic belief that the souls of our dearly departed are trapped in some inferior being, in an animal, aplant, an inanimate object, indeed lost to us until the day, which for some never arrives, when we find that we pass near the tree, or come to possess the object which is their prison. Then they quiver, call us, and as soon as we have recognized them, the spell is broken. Freed by us, they have vanquished death and return to live with us."
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Source: Marcel Proust (2006). “Remembrance of Things Past”, p.1127, Wordsworth Editions
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