Marcel Proust

And just as the Japanese amuse themselves by filling a porcelain bowl with

water and steeping in it little crumbs of paper which until then are without

character or form, but, the moment they become wet, stretch themselves

and bend, take on colour and distinctive shape, become flowers or houses or

people, permanent and recognisable, so in that moment all the flowers in our

garden and in M. Swann’s park, and the water-lilies on the Vivonne and the

good folk of the village and their little dwellings and the parish church and

the whole of Combray and of its surroundings, taking their proper shapes

and growing solid, sprang into being, town and gardens alike, all from my

cup of tea.

Marcel Proust, Remembrance of Things Past

Happy birthday, Marcel (10 Juillet)


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