But when from a long-distant past nothing subsists, after the people are dead, after the things are broken and scattered, taste and smell alone, more fragile but more enduring, more unsubstantial, more persistent, more faithful, remain poised a long time, like souls, remembering, waiting, hoping, amid the ruins of all the rest; and bear unflinchingly, in the tiny and almost impalpable drop of their essence, the vast structure of recollection.
Interpretation
Memories and sensations, particularly taste and smell, endure even after everything else fades away.
In this quote, Marcel Proust reflects on the powerful role that memories play in our lives, particularly through the senses of taste and smell. He suggests that while physical objects and people may perish or become fragmented over time, these sensory experiences can evoke deep recollections, serving as a bridge to our past and connecting us to our memories with a sense of hope and continuity.
In practice
In a speech about the power of memories during a reunion.
At that time, he was satisfying a sensual curiosity by experiencing the pleasures of people who live for love. He had believed he could stop there, that he would not be obliged to learn their sorrows; how small a thing her charm was for him now compared with the astounding terror that extended out from it like a murky halo, the immense anguish of not knowing at every moment what she had been doing, of not possessing her everywhere and always!
We do not succeed in changing things according to our desire, but gradually our desire changes. The situation that we hoped to change because it was intolerable becomes unimportant. We have not managed to surmount the obstacle, as we were absolutely determined to do, but life has taken us round it, led us past it, and then if we turn round to gaze at the remote past, we can barely catch sight of it, so imperceptible has it become.
A person does not...stand motionless and clear before our eyes with his merits, his defects, his plans, his intentions with regard to ourself exposed on his surface...but is a shadow which we can never succeed in penetrating...a shadow behind which we can alternately imagine, with equal justification, that there burns the flame of hatred and of love.
We are all of us obliged, if we are to make reality endurable, to nurse a few little follies in ourselves.
There are perhaps no days of our childhood we lived so fully as those we spent with a favorite book.
Every kiss provokes another. Oh, in those earliest days of love how naturally the kisses spring to life! So closely, in their profusion, do they crowd together that lovers would find it as hard to count the kisses exchanged in an hour as to count the flowers in a meadow in May.
You can never go home again, but the truth is you can never leave home, so it's all right.
I have walked through many lives,_x000D_ some of them my own,_x000D_ and I am not who I was,_x000D_ though some principle of being_x000D_ abides, from which I struggle_x000D_ not to stray.
I believe that everything happens for a reason. People change so that you can learn to let go, things go wrong so that you appreciate them when they're right, you believe lies so you eventually learn to trust no one but yourself, and sometimes good things fall apart so better things can fall together.
Your past is your shadow. It has form but no substance, except in the places you allow it to touch you. (
You have no doubt guessed long since that the conquest of time and the escape from reality, or however else it may be that you choose to describe your longing, means simply the wish to be relieved of your so-called personality. That is the prison where you lie.
A person who has been punished is not thereby simply less inclined to behave in a given way; at best, he learns how to avoid punishment.
Subscribe for the occasional hand-picked quote. No noise.