Whether it is because the faith which creates has ceased to exist in me, or because reality takes shape in the memory alone, the flowers that people … - Marcel Proust

Like everyone who possesses something precious in order to know what would happen if he ceased for a moment to possess it, he had detached the precious object from his mind, leaving, as he thought, everything else in the same state as when it was there. But the absence of one part from a whole is not only that, it is not simply a partial lack, it is a derangement of all the other parts, a new state which it was impossible to foresee in the old.

The sea refreshes our imagination because it does not make us think of human life; yet it rejoices the soul, because, like the soul, it is an infinite and impotent striving, a strength that is ceaselessly broken by falls, an eternal and exquisite lament. The sea thus enchants us like music, which, unlike language, never bears the traces of things, never tells us anything about human beings, but imitates the stirrings of the soul. Sweeping up with the waves of those movements, plunging back with them, the heart thus forgets its own failures and finds solace in an intimate harmony between its own sadness and the sea’s sadness, which merges the sea’s destiny with the destinies of all things.

در زمان كودكي سرنوشت هيچ كدام از شخصيت هاي كتاب مقدس بنظرم دردناك تر از روزگار نوح نبود،به سبب توفان كه او را در كشتي اش به مدت چهل روز زنداني كرده بود. بعدها اغلب روزهاي متوالي بيمار بودم و بايد در كشتي ام مي ماندم. ان گاه بود كه فهميدم نوح هرگز نمي توانست دنيا را به ان خوبي ببيند كه از درون كشتي ديده بود، هرچند كه فضائي دربسته و زمين را تاريكي پوشانده بود.