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In the Shadow of ...
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  (page 230 of 576)
"I'm quite stuck, I don't feel the book engaging anymore" Feb 16, 2015 01:51PM

 
L'uomo senza qualità
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Black Jack, Vol. 1
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Pierfrancesco Aiello wants to read
Supplying War by Martin van Creveld
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The German Genius by Peter Watson
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Logicomix by Apostolos Doxiadis
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Pierfrancesco Aiello is on page 230 of 576 of In the Shadow of Young Girls in Flower: I'm quite stuck, I don't feel the book engaging anymore
In the Shadow of Young Girls in Flower by Marcel Proust
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The Little Prince by Antoine de Saint-Exupéry
The Little Prince
by Antoine de Saint-Exupéry
read in December, 2014
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Nice observations about society behaviours and importance of relationships.
Pierfrancesco Aiello wants to read
Eater by Gregory Benford
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Golden Fleece by Robert J. Sawyer
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Diaspora by Greg Egan
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Rendezvous with Rama by Arthur C. Clarke
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The Little Prince by Antoine de Saint-Exupéry
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More of Pierfrancesco's books…
Marcel Proust
“For in this respect love is not like war; after the battle is ended we renew the fight with keener ardour, which we never cease to intensify the more thoroughly we are defeated, provided always that we are still in a position to give battle.”
Marcel Proust, In the Shadow of Young Girls in Flower

Marcel Proust
“We desire some pleasure, and the material means of obtaining it are lacking. “It is a mistake,” Labruyère tells us, “to be in love without an ample fortune.” There is nothing for it but to attempt a gradual elimination of our desire for that pleasure. [...] But the pleasure can never be realised. If we succeed in overcoming the force of circumstances, nature at once shifts the battle-ground, placing it within ourselves, and effects a gradual change in our heart until it desires something other than what it is going to obtain. And if this transposition has been so rapid that our heart has not had time to change, nature does not, on that account, despair of conquering us, in a manner more gradual, it is true, more subtle, but no less efficacious. It is then, at the last moment, that the possession of our happiness is wrested from us, or rather it is that very possession which nature, with diabolical cleverness, uses to destroy our happiness. After failure in every quarter of the domain of life and action, it is a final incapacity, the mental incapacity for happiness, that nature creates in us. The phenomenon, of happiness either fails to appear, or at once gives way to the bitterest of reactions.”
Marcel Proust, In the Shadow of Young Girls in Flower

Marcel Proust
“For, like desire, regret seeks not to be analysed but to be satisfied. When one begins to love, one spends one’s time, not in getting to know what one’s love really is, but in making it possible to meet next day. When one abandons love one seeks not to know one’s grief but to offer to her who is causing it that expression of it which seems to one the most moving. One says the things which one feels the need of saying, and which the other will not understand, one speaks for oneself alone. I wrote: 'I had thought that it would not be possible. Alas, I see now that it is not so difficult.' I said also: 'I shall probably not see you again;' I said it while I continued to avoid shewing a coldness which she might think affected, and the words, as I wrote them, made me weep because I felt that they expressed not what I should have liked to believe but what was probably going to happen.”
Marcel Proust, In the Shadow of Young Girls in Flower

Marcel Proust
“We scornfully decline, because of one whom we love and who will some day be of so little account, to see another who is of no account to-day, with whom we shall be in love to-morrow, with whom we might, perhaps, had we consented to see her now, have fallen in love a little earlier and who would thus have put a term to our present sufferings, bringing others, it is true, in their place.”
Marcel Proust, In the Shadow of Young Girls in Flower

Marcel Proust
“in other words each of those calm and melancholy days on which I did not see her, coming one after the other without interruption, continuing too without prescription (unless some busy-body were to meddle in my affairs), was a day not lost but gained. Gained to no purpose, it might be, for presently they would be able to pronounce that I was healed. Resignation, modulating our habits, allows certain elements of our strength to be indefinitely increased. Those — so wretchedly inadequate — that I had had to support my grief, on the first evening of my rupture with Gilberte, had since multiplied to an incalculable power.”
Marcel Proust, In the Shadow of Young Girls in Flower

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