And in love, it is easier to relinquish a feeling than to give up a habit. - Marcel Proust

The being that I shall be after death has no more reason to remember the man I have been since my birth than the latter to remember what I was before it.

Peut-être n’eût-elle pas pensé que le mal fût un état si rare, si extraordinaire, si dépaysant, où il était si reposant d’émigrer, si elle avait su discerner en elle, comme en tout le monde, cette indifférence aux souffrances qu’on cause et qui, quelques autres noms qu’on lui donne, est la forme terrible et permanente de la cruauté.

…I suddenly discerned at my feet, crouching among the rocks for protection against the heat, the marine goddesses for whom Elstir had lain in wait and whom he had surprised there, beneath the dark glaze as lovely as Leonardo would have painted, the marvelous Shadows, sheltering furtively, nimble and silent, ready at the first glimmer of light to slip behind the stone, to hide in a cranny, and prompt, once the menacing ray had passed, to return to the rock or the seaweed over whose torpid slumbers they seemed to be keeping vigil, beneath the sun that crumbled the cliffs and the etiolated ocean, motionless lightfoot guardians darkening the water’s surface with their viscous bodies and the attentive gaze of their deep blue eyes.