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A review by michaelwong
In Search of Lost Time, Volume 6: Finding Time Again by Marcel Proust
5.0
"I imagined that the Seine, flowing through the oops formed by the bridges and the reflexion of their arches in the water, must resemble the Bosporus." p. 77
"...the remarkable disproportion between the distance he covered and the few seconds he took to execute this sortie..." p. 78
"If I really had the soul of an artist, what pleasure would I not derive...in those little flowers growing along the roadbed and raising their heads almost to the step of the railway carriage, so near I could count their petals, but I shall take good heed not to describe their color, for who can hope to convey to another a pleasure he has not himself felt?" p. 110
"...the letters that made up that name, so familiar yet so mysterious...declared their independence and seemed to outline before my weary eyes a name that was strange to me." p. 111
"began thinking again of that lassitude, that weariness with which I had tried the evening “before to note the railway line which separated the shadow from the light upon the trees in one of the most beautiful countrysides in France. Certainly such intellectual conclusions as I had drawn from these thoughts did not affect my sensibility so cruelly to-day, but they remained the same” p. 117
"...one of my feet stepped on a flagstone lower than the one next it. In that instant all my discouragement disappeared and I was possessed by the same felicity which at different moments of my life had given me...” p. 118-119
The flagstones are my favorite passage of all volumes.
"...I understood too clearly that the sensation of the uneven flagstones, the stiffness of the napkin and the savour of the adeleine had awakened in me something that had no relation to what I used to endeavour to recall to mind..." p. 121
"...the remarkable disproportion between the distance he covered and the few seconds he took to execute this sortie..." p. 78
"If I really had the soul of an artist, what pleasure would I not derive...in those little flowers growing along the roadbed and raising their heads almost to the step of the railway carriage, so near I could count their petals, but I shall take good heed not to describe their color, for who can hope to convey to another a pleasure he has not himself felt?" p. 110
"...the letters that made up that name, so familiar yet so mysterious...declared their independence and seemed to outline before my weary eyes a name that was strange to me." p. 111
"began thinking again of that lassitude, that weariness with which I had tried the evening “before to note the railway line which separated the shadow from the light upon the trees in one of the most beautiful countrysides in France. Certainly such intellectual conclusions as I had drawn from these thoughts did not affect my sensibility so cruelly to-day, but they remained the same” p. 117
"...one of my feet stepped on a flagstone lower than the one next it. In that instant all my discouragement disappeared and I was possessed by the same felicity which at different moments of my life had given me...” p. 118-119
The flagstones are my favorite passage of all volumes.
"...I understood too clearly that the sensation of the uneven flagstones, the stiffness of the napkin and the savour of the adeleine had awakened in me something that had no relation to what I used to endeavour to recall to mind..." p. 121