کات! گۆڕانکاری بەسەر مرۆڤەکاندا دێنێت. بەڵام سیمایەک کە لەوانمان هەیە وەک خۆی ڕادەگرێ.. هیچ شتێک پڕ ژانتر لەو ناکۆکیەی نێوان ئاڵوگۆڕی مرۆڤەکان و وەک… - Marcel Proust

Važiavau ne tomis pačiomis gatvėmis, kuriomis vaikščiojo tądien praeiviai, o slidžia, liūdna ir švelnia praeitim. Beje, ji buvo sudaryta iš šitiekos skirtingų praeičių, kad man buvo sunku suvokti savo liūdesio priežastį <...>.

These dreams reminded me that, since I wished some day to become a writer, it was high time to decide what sort of books I was going to write. But as soon as I asked myself the question, and tried to discover some subject to which I could impart a philosophical significance of infinite value, my mind would stop like a clock, my consciousness would be faced with a blank, I would feel either that I was wholly devoid of talent or perhaps that some malady of the brain was hindering its development.

There is nothing like desire for obstructing any resemblance between what one says and what one has on one's mind.