Besides, love is an incurable malady, like those diathetic states in which rheumatism affords the sufferer a brief respite only to be replaced by epileptiform headaches.
Marcel Proust, The Captive, p. 80
If Proust wrote Valentine Day cards.
I've seen Proust quoted for any number of things - including the introduction of my never to be finished manuscript of my never to be published book - but I don't think I've ever seen him quoted in any sappy romance settings. It's not simply that Proust is often depressing as hell, but, more importantly, I think it's because he's trying to make sense of love and desire, and that tends to make bad popular culture fodder.
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