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...Hard people are weak people whom nobody wants, and the strong, caring little whether they are wanted or not, have alone that meekness which the common herd mistake for weakness.

Marcel Proust

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Marcel Proust
Age: 51 †
Born: 1871
Born: July 10
Died: 1922
Died: November 18
Author
Essayist
Literary Critic
Novelist
Poet
Prosaist
Writer
Paris
France
Valentin Louis Georges Eugène Marcel Proust
Proust
Valentin-Louis-Georgs-Eugène-Marcel Proust
Valentin Louis Georges Eugéne Marcel Proust
Valentin-Louis-Georges-Eugéne-Marcel Proust
Valentin Louis Georges Eugene Marcel Proust
Valentin-Louis-Georges-Eugene-Marcel Proust
Bernard d'Algouvres
Valentin-Louis-Georges-Eugène-Marcel Proust
Whether
Caring
Strong
Weakness
Littles
Weak
Wanted
Nobody
Little
Wants
Hard
Mistake
Meekness
People
Alone
Herd
Common
Herds

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We think and name in one world, we live and feel in another.
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Let a prize lower my position, if it causes me to be read that I prefer immediately to all the honors.
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If a little dreaming is dangerous, the cure for it is not to dream less but to dream more, to dream all the time.
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We are all of us obliged, if we are to make reality endurable, to nurse a few little follies in ourselves.
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It is not only by dint of lying to others, but also of lying to ourselves, that we cease to notice that we are lying.
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The only thing that does not change is that at any and every time it appears that there have been great changes.
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A little tap at the window, as though some missile had struck it, followed by a plentiful, falling sound, as light, though, as if a shower of sand were being sprinkled from a window overhead then the fall spread, took on an order, a rhythm, became liquid, loud, drumming, musical, innumerable, universal. It was the rain
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And indeed when we are no longer in love with women whom we meet after many years, is there not the abyss of death between them and ourselves, just as much as if they were no longer of this world, since the fact that we are no longer in love makes the people that they were or the person that we were then as good as dead?
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Less disappointing than life, great works of art do not begin by giving us all their best.
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Love...., ever unsatisfied, lives always in the moment that is about to come.
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Aristocracy is a relative thing. And there are plenty of out-of-the-way places where the son of an upholsterer is the arbiter of fashion and reigns over a court like any young Prince of Wales.
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In a separation it is the one who is not really in love who says the more tender things.
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We passionately long that there may be another life in which we shall be similar to what we are here below. But we do not pause to reflect that, even without waiting for that other life, in this life, after a few years we are unfaithful to what we have been, to what we wished to remain immortally.
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We live not alone but chained to a creature of a different kingdom: our body.
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Do not wait for life. Do not long for it. Be aware, always and at every moment, that the miracle is in the here and now.
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People who laugh so heartily at what they themselves have said, when it is not funny, dispense us accordingly, by taking upon themselves the responsibility for the mirth, from joining in it.
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Le veritable voyage de decouverte ne consiste pas a chercher de nouveaux paysages, mais a avoir de nouveaux yeux. (The real voyage of discovery consists not in seeking new landscapes but in having new eyes.)
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