Proust on love

Within a budding (apple) grove, Moses Cone, May 2008.

When we are in love, our love is too big a thing for us to be able altogether to contain it within ourselves. It radiates towards the loved one, finds there a surface which arrests it, forcing it to return to its starting-point, and it is this repercussion of our own feeling which we call the other’s feelings and which charms us more then than on its outward journey because we do not recognize it as having originated in ourselves.

Within a Budding Grove, Marcel Proust, translation by Moncrieff, revised by Enright.

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