[…] people do not die at once for us, they remain bathed in a sort of aura of life in which there is no true immortality but which means that they continue to occupy our thoughts in the same way as when they were alive. It is as though they were travelling abroad.
Marcel Proust: In Search of Lost Time: The Prisoner & The Fugitive
13 January 2019
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
Post a comment