Mr. James’s Reviews > Swann’s Way > Status Update

The coachman came back, but at the moment he stopped in front of Swann, Swann did not say to him: "Did you find the lady?" but: "Remind me, tomorrow, to order more wood; I think our supply must be almost exhausted." [...] and would have gone on talking to him about supplies of wood in order to hide the emotion he felt and allow himself time to separate from his uneasiness and give himself up to his happiness. -- M.P.

Objectification + Possession = Love

Swann left for Prevost's, but at every step of the way his carriage was stopped by other carriages or by people crossing the street, loathsome obstacles that he would gladly have knocked down if the policeman and his report would not have delayed him even more than the passage of a pedestrian. -- M.P.

"This tea, in fact, seemed as precious a thing to Swann as it did to her, and love has such need to find for itself a justification, a guarantee that it will last, in pleasures which in fact would not be pleasures without it and which end when it ends..." ― Marcel Proust

On his deathbed, Parker's father whispered, "Boy... It ain't what you do... It's who you know." After his father's death, on a cold November morning, Parker went to the pub. He knew the barmaid well.

"I'll be at the cafe Monday," she had said, "meet me at noon." Jerry arrived at 11:30, chose a seat outside, ordered a latte and told the waiter, "Come back at noon." Jerry looked at the other patrons: a couple laughing, an old man playing with his watch, and a young boy shoving pancakes into his mouth. The waiter returned at noon and said, "Thursday special: sloppy joe." "I'll have that," Jerry said.

"What is then this mystery? / I cannot understand. / Fleeting vision... / In these affairs / 'Tis better to be blind." - Marcel Proust

There has been an absence... Yes? They met; the Ways. Yes? Inevitable: either or. You, as I gather, seem confused. Which is better? Well, the bird was a dark pink. Maybe there is no either or. My take: the grass casts shadows, yet, each blade - I swear to you - is a vivid green. As a whole there is too much malice and joy to accept... presently. The driver's box is empty; I fill it and mumble, "Tansonville."

"And these dreams warned me that since I wanted to be a writer someday, it was time to find out what I meant to write." - Marcel Proust

"For only in recollection does experience become fully significant, as we arrange it in a meaningful pattern, and thus the crucial role of our intellect, our imagination, in our perception of the world and our re-creation of it suit our desires." - Lydia Davis, Introduction, Swann's Way"