Quotes by

Marcel Proust

A powerful idea communicates some of its strength to him who challenges it. – Marcel Proust

A change in the weather is sufficient to recreate the world and ourselves. – Marcel Proust

Words do not change their meanings so drastically in the course of centuries as, in our minds, names do in the course of a year or two. – Marcel Proust

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

Everything great in the world comes from neurotics. They alone have founded our religions and composed our masterpieces. – Marcel Proust

A little insomnia is not without its value in making us appreciate sleep, in throwing a ray of light upon that darkness. – Marcel Proust

It is often hard to bear the tears that we ourselves have caused. – Marcel Proust

Everything great in the world is done by neurotics; they alone founded our religions and created our masterpieces. – Marcel Proust

Illness is the most heeded of doctors: to goodness and wisdom we only make promises; pain we obey. – Marcel Proust

Habit is a second nature which prevents us from knowing the first, of which it has neither the cruelties nor the enchantments. – Marcel Proust

Time, which changes people, does not alter the image we have retained of them. – Marcel Proust

People do not die for us immediately, but remain bathed in a sort of aura of life which bears no relation to true immortality but through which they continue to occupy our thoughts in the same way as when they were alive. It is as though they were traveling abroad. – Marcel Proust

The real voyage of discovery consists not in seeking new landscapes, but in having new eyes. – Marcel Proust

It is in moments of illness that we are compelled to recognize that we live not alone but chained to a creature of a different kingdom, whole worlds apart, who has no knowledge of us and by whom it is impossible to make ourselves understood: our body. – Marcel Proust

Let us be grateful to people who make us happy, they are the charming gardeners who make our souls blossom. – Marcel Proust