Only through art can we emerge from ourselves and know what another person sees. - Marcel Proust

The air of those rooms was saturated with the fine bouquet of a silence so nourishing, so succulent, that I never went into them without a sort of greedy anticipation, particularly on those first mornings, chilly still, of the Easter holidays, when I could taste it more fully because I had only just arrived in Combray[...]

As a man with imagination you can enjoy only in regret or in anticipation — that is, in the past or in the future.

It is our noticing them that puts things in a room, our growing used to them that takes them away again and clears a space for us.