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But when from a long-distant past nothing subsists, after the people are dead, after the things are broken and scattered, taste and smell alone, more fragile but more enduring, more unsubstantial, more persistent, more faithful, remain poised a long time, like souls, remembering, waiting, hoping, amid the ruins of all the rest; and bear unflinchingly, in the tiny and almost impalpable drop of their essence, the vast structure of recollection.
Marcel Proust
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Interpretation

What this quote means

Memories and sensations, particularly taste and smell, endure even after everything else fades away.

In this quote, Marcel Proust reflects on the powerful role that memories play in our lives, particularly through the senses of taste and smell. He suggests that while physical objects and people may perish or become fragmented over time, these sensory experiences can evoke deep recollections, serving as a bridge to our past and connecting us to our memories with a sense of hope and continuity.

Themes

MemorySensationsTasteSmellNostalgiaRecollectionPast

In practice

Example use cases

In a speech about the power of memories during a reunion.

More from Marcel Proust

At that time, he was satisfying a sensual curiosity by experiencing the pleasures of people who live for love. He had believed he could stop there, that he would not be obliged to learn their sorrows; how small a thing her charm was for him now compared with the astounding terror that extended out from it like a murky halo, the immense anguish of not knowing at every moment what she had been doing, of not possessing her everywhere and always!
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We do not succeed in changing things according to our desire, but gradually our desire changes. The situation that we hoped to change because it was intolerable becomes unimportant. We have not managed to surmount the obstacle, as we were absolutely determined to do, but life has taken us round it, led us past it, and then if we turn round to gaze at the remote past, we can barely catch sight of it, so imperceptible has it become.
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A person does not...stand motionless and clear before our eyes with his merits, his defects, his plans, his intentions with regard to ourself exposed on his surface...but is a shadow which we can never succeed in penetrating...a shadow behind which we can alternately imagine, with equal justification, that there burns the flame of hatred and of love.
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We are all of us obliged, if we are to make reality endurable, to nurse a few little follies in ourselves.
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There are perhaps no days of our childhood we lived so fully as those we spent with a favorite book.
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Every kiss provokes another. Oh, in those earliest days of love how naturally the kisses spring to life! So closely, in their profusion, do they crowd together that lovers would find it as hard to count the kisses exchanged in an hour as to count the flowers in a meadow in May.
Marcel ProustRead

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