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Remembrance of things past

Remembrance of things past

Nothing can ever last

You held me tight

Throughout the night

Then we awoke

Into the morning light

Dreams are all we had… 86 more words

Poetry

Proust: 'Discover the Darkness'. . . Remembrance of Things Pass #145

DISCOVER THE DARKNESS

“What an abyss of uncertainty whenever the mind feels that some part of it has strayed beyond its own borders; when it, the seeker, is at once the dark region through which it must go seeking, where all its equipment will avail it nothing. 39 more words

Writer

Proust: 'Infinite Reflections' | Remembrance of Things Pass #144

INFINITE REFLECTIONS

“The only true voyage, the only bath in the Fountain of Youth, would be not to visit strange lands but to possess other eyes, to see the universe through the eyes of another, of a hundred others, to see the hundred universes that each of them sees, that each of them is; and this we do ; with artists like these we do really fly from star to star. ” ― Marcel Proust

Writer

Proust: 'Pascal's Probabilities' | Remembrance of Things Pass #143

PASCAL’S PROBABILITIES

“After a certain age our memories are so intertwined with one another that what we are thinking of, the book we are reading, scarcely matters any more. 33 more words

Writer

Reading Proust at the DMV...(3)

I’m reading Proust at the DMV in north Chicago – a hangar of a warehouse space filled with 2-300 people – anxious, sweaty, tired from waiting in long airport sized lines, edgy security guards walking around a little too wound up, feeding on the stress and the immigrant PTSD that wafts through the room like cigarette smoke. 845 more words

US Politics

Proust: 'Vapor Blues' | Remembrance of Things Pass #142

VAPOR BLUES

“When I saw any external object, my consciousness that I was seeing it would remain between me and it, enclosing it in a slender, incorporeal outline which prevented me from ever coming directly in contact with the material form; for it would volatilise itself in some way before I could touch it, just as an incandescent body which is moved towards something wet never actually touches moisture, since it is always preceded, itself, by a zone of evaporation.” ― Marcel Proust

Writer

Climbing Proust - 2

This is my second post in an on-going series about reading Proust’s Remembrance of Things Past).

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One mustn’t think about how far one “is” when reading Proust’s… 1,071 more words

Writing/Literature