#finding time again

Losing one's way is nothing; the problem is finding it again.

Reading teaches us to place a higher value on life, a value which we did not know how to appreciate, and the true extent of which we come to realize only through the book.

But sometimes it is just when everything seems to be lost that we experience a presentiment that may save us; one has knocked on all the doors which lead nowhere, and then, unwittingly, one pushes against the only one through which one may enter and for which one would have searched in vain for a hundred years, and it opens.

For our worst fears, like our greatest hopes, are not outside our powers, and we can come in the end to triumph over the former and to achieve the latter.

The only true paradise is a paradise that we have lost.

An hour is not just an hour, it is a vessel full of perfumes, sounds, plans and atmospheres. What we call reality is a certain relationship between these sensations and the memories which surround us simultaneously.

Love not only drives us to make the greatest sacrifices for the person we love, but also sometimes drives us to the sacrifice of our desire itself, which moreover is all the harder to satisfy when the person we love senses that we love them with an unreciprocated intensity.