Showing posts with label Remembrance of Things Past. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Remembrance of Things Past. Show all posts

Sunday, March 9, 2014

Daily Dose

From Swann's Way, by Marcel Proust, translated by C. K. Scott Moncrieff and Terence Kilmartin

I'D RATHER

"'I'd rather have it in my bed than a slap with a wet fish,' the words came tumbling from Cottard, who had for some time been waiting in vain for Forchewille to pause for breath so that he might get in this hoary old joke for which there might not be another cue if the conversation should take a different turn and which he now produced with that excessive spontaneity and confidence that seeks to cover up the coldness and the anxiety inseparable from a prepared recitation."

From page 286, this edition.

Monday, November 4, 2013

Daily Dose

From red doc, by Anne Carson

THINKING

"THINKING ABOUT
PROUST to pass the time.
What a scamp that Proust.
That Albertine."

From page 88, this edition

Sunday, November 3, 2013

Daily Dose

From The Past Recaptured, by Marcel Proust, translated by Frederick a. Blossom

REFLECTION

"I reflected that dreams would sometimes in this way bring nearer to me truths or impressions which would not come through my own unaided effort or even through natural contingencies, and that they would awaken in me a desire, a longing for certain non-existent things, which is the prerequisite condition for creative work, for getting out of the rut of habit and getting away from the concrete."

From page 246, this edition

Wednesday, January 5, 2011

Daily Dose

From Within a Budding Grove, by Marcel Proust, translated by C. K. Scott Moncrieff and Terence Kilmartin

HIS TRAGEDY

"'His tragedy was the deplorable age in which he lived.'"

Robert Saint-Loup, speaking of his father, from Place-Names: The Place

Wednesday, September 8, 2010

Daily Dose

From Within a Budding Grove, by Marcel Proust, translated by C. K. Scott Moncrieff

CRUISING

"I turned my head and saw a man of about forty, very tall and rather stout, with a very dark moustache, who, nervously slapping the leg of his trousers with a switch, kept fastened upon me a pair of eyes dilated with observation."

From Part II, Place-Names: The Place