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Love is an incurable malady like those diatheses in which rheumatism lets up only to make way for chronic headaches.
Marcel Proust -
The pleasure that all men experience in mulling over their recollections is often keenest in those whom the tyranny of a malady and the daily hope of its cure keep, on the one hand, from seeking in nature images resembling those recollections and yet, on the other hand, leave confident that they will soon be able to do so. This hope adds an element of expectancy to memories and saves them from being mere recollections of a dead past.
Marcel Proust -
We assume we know what things mean and what people think for the simple reason that we do not really care. But as soon as we have a real desire to know, as the jealous man has, we are faced with a dizzy kaleidoscope in which we can make out nothing.
Marcel Proust -
We are sculptors forever trying to model from a woman an entirely different statue from the one she offers us.
Marcel Proust -
In its early stage love is shaped by desire; later on it is kept alive only by anxiety. In painful anxiety as in joyful desire, love insists upon everything. It is born and it thrives only if something remains to be won. We love only what we do not completely possess.
Marcel Proust -
He who loves and he whose desires are satisfied are not the same man.
Marcel Proust -
Sometimes for us to fall in love with a woman, she has only to look upon us scornfully so that we think she could never be ours; and sometimes she has only to look upon us kindly so that we think she could be ours.
Marcel Proust -
Often our love for a girl who otherwise would soon have bored us comes from associating her image with the palpitations inseparable from a long and vain wait for her when she has failed to keep an appointment.
Marcel Proust -
via(weirdscaryandusualstuff:)
“In those perfect coincidences where reality corresponds to what we have so long dreamed, it completely hides that dream from us, like two equal and superimposed images that form but one. But to get the most out of our joy, we should prefer that our desire reassure us that it has no wise changed by preserving, at the very moment of realization, the prestige of being unattainable.”
- Marcel Proust
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Posted on May 4, 2010 via La Douleur Exquise with 304 notes
Source: Flickr / jung_n_freud
