با آوردن یک بیتِ تنها از یک شعر، نیروی کشش آنرا ده‌برابر می‌کنیم - Marcel Proust

For a long time I used to go to bed early.

Now the same mystery which often veils from our eyes the reason for a catastrophe envelops just as frequently, when love is in question, the suddenness of certain happy solutions, such as had been brought to me by Gilberte's letter. Happy, or at least seemingly happy, for there are few that can really be happy when we are dealing with a sentiment of such a kind that any satisfaction we can give it does no more, as a rule, than dislodge some pain. And yet sometimes a respite is granted us, and we have for a little while the illusion of being healed.

Adultery breathes new life into marriages which have been left for dead.