Sunday, November 12, 2017

My Years With Proust - Day 644

Death merely acts in the same way as absence.  The monster at whose apparition my love had trembled, oblivion, had indeed, as I had feared, ended by devouring my love.
Marcel Proust, The Fugitive, p. 658

Paraphrasing Marcus Aurelius from the Meditations: soon you will have forgotten the world and the world will have forgotten you.  In our more romantic moments we assume, or at least hope, that love will transcend death, but, sadly, it usually doesn't even put up much of a fight against life.


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