Un uomo che dorme tiene in cerchio intorno a sé il filo delle ore, l'ordine degli anni e dei mondi. Svegliandosi li consulta d'istinto e vi legge in … - Marcel Proust

I felt that I did not really remember her except through the pain, and I longed for the nails that riveted her to my consciousness to be driven yet deeper.

The thirst for something other than what we have…to bring something new, even if it is worse, some emotion, some sorrow; when our sensibility, which happiness has silenced like an idle harp, wants to resonate under some hand, even a rough one, and even if it might be broken by it.

There are perhaps no days of our childhood we lived so fully as those we believe we left without having lived them, those we spent with a favorite book.