People don't know when they are happy. They're never so unhappy as they think they are.
Marcel ProustStichwörter: happiness unhappiness
Like Michelangelo spending eight months in the mountains of Carrara, selecting the most perfect blocks of marble for the tomb of Pope Julius II, Françoise, who attached extreme importance to the inherent quality of the materials out of which her masterpieces were to be wrought, had been down to Les Halles in person more than once to choose the finest slabs of rump steak, the best shin of beef and calf’s foot. She threw herself so strenuously into this pursuit that my mother, seeing our old servant turn red in the face, feared that, as the sculptor of the Medici tombs had sickened in the quarries at Pietrasanta, she might make herself ill from overwork. (p. In the Shadow of Young Girls in Flower, 17)
Marcel ProustStichwörter: the-extended-metaphor
We may, indeed, say that the hour of death is uncertain, but when we say this we think of that hour as situated in a vague and remote expanse of time; it doesnot occur to us that it can have any connection with the day that has already dawned and can mean that death can occur this very afternoon, so far from uncertain,this afternoon whose timetable, hour by hour, has been settled in advance. One insists on one's daily outing, so that in a month's time one will have had the necessary ration of fresh air, one has hesitated over which coat to take, which cabman to call ;one is in the cab, the whole day lies before one, short because one must be back home early,as a friend is coming to see one; one hopes it will be fine again tomorrow; one has no suspicion that death, which has been advancing one on another plane, has chosen precisely this particular day to make it's appearance in a few minutes' time.....
Marcel Proustنمی توانست با اندیشه اش درد را آرام کند، انگاری که دردی فیزیکی باشد، اما درد فیزیکی از آنجا که از اندیشه مستقل است ، دستکم اندیشه می تواند برا آن تامل کند، ببیند که فروکش کرده یا برای کوتاه زمانی بازایستاده است. ولی آن درد را، اندیشه با همان یادآوری اش دوباره پدید می آورد. همین که می خواستی دیگر به آن نیندیشی باز به آن می اندیشیدی و باز درد می کشیدی، و هنگامی که، در گفت و گو با دوستان، آن را از یاد برده بود، ناگهان کلمه ای حالت چهره اش را دگرگون می کرد، همچون زخمی ای که کسی ناآگاهانه و بی احتیاط به اندام آسیب دیده اش دست بزند.
Marcel Proustآنگاه به یاد آن شب مهمانی افتادم که بسیار غمگین بودم چون مادرم نمی بایست به اتاقم می آمد و سوان گفت که مهمانی های رقص خانه پرنسس دولئون هیچ اهمیتی نداشت، حال آنکه تمام زندگی اش را در کار این گونه خوشی ها می کرد. این هم به نظرم تناقض داشت. برای کدام زندگی دیگر ی این فرصت را باقی می گذاشت که سرانجام عقیده اش را درباره چیزها جدی بگوید، نظرهایی بدهد که لزومی نباشد آنها را میان گیومه بگذارد، و دیگر با ادب بسیار به مشغله هایی نپردازد که با این حال خودش به مسخره بودنشان اعتراف می کند؟
Marcel Proustبه نظر من، فقط دو دسته آدم وجود دارند: آنهایی که بزرگوارند و آنهایی که نیستند، و من به سنی رسیده ام که دیگر باید انتخاب کرد، باید یک بار و برای همیشه تصمیم بگیری کی ها را دوست داشته باشی و کی ها را ول کنی، با آنهایی که دوست داری یکی بشوی و برای جبران وقتی که با بقیه هدر داده ای تا دم مرگ از آنها جدا نشوی.
Marcel ProustI would ask myself what o'clock it could be; I could hear the whistling of trains, which, now nearer and now farther off, punctuating the distance like the note of a bird in a forest, shewed me in perspective the deserted countryside through which a traveller would be hurrying towards the nearest station: the path that he followed being fixed for ever in his memory by the general excitement due to being in a strange place, to doing unusual things, to the last words of conversation, to farewells exchanged beneath an unfamiliar lamp which echoed still in his ears amid the silence of the night; and to the delightful prospect of being once again at home.
Marcel ProustStichwörter: proust swann-s-way
There is a degree of resemblance between the women we love at different times; and this resemblance, though it devolves, derives from the unchanging nature of our own temperament, which is what selects them, by ruling out all those who are not likely to be both opposite and complementary to us, who cannot be relied on, that is, to gratify our sensuality and wound our heart. Such women are a product of our temperament, an inverted image or projection, a negative of our sensitivity.
Marcel ProustMy Dear Grandpapa,
I’m appealing to your kindness for the sum of 13 francs that I would like to ask Monsieur Nathan for, but that Mamma prefers that I ask you for. Here is why. I so needed to see a woman to cure my bad habit of masturbating that papa gave me 10 francs to go to a brothel. But in my first agitated state I broke the chamber pot, 3 francs, and second, in this same agitated state, I was unable to screw. So here I am, still awaiting each hour 10 francs to satisfy myself and in addition, 3 francs for the chamber pot.
-M.
Carried away in a sort of dream, he smiled, then he began to hurry back towards the lady; he was walking faster than usual, and his shoulders swayed backwards and forwards, right and left, in the most absurd fashion; altogether he looked, so utterly had he abandoned himself to it, ignoring all other considerations, as though he were the lifeless and wire-pulled puppet of his own happiness.
Marcel ProustStichwörter: happiness proust puppet swann-s-way
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