I'm sure Proust was a big bore.
Proust was the greatest novelist of the twentieth century, just as Tolstoy was in the nineteenth.
Continue reading Proust. His magnificent intelligence is particularly fond of describing stupidity. Which is ultimately exhausting.
Proust had his madeleines; I am devastated by the scent of yeast bread rising.
The novel as we knew it in the nineteenth century was killed off by Proust and Joyce.
A ton of Proust isn’t worth an ounce of Ray Bradbury.
Proust again: One can only wish that a man with such powers of total recall had led a less tedious life, moved among somewhat livelier circles.
You know, the more grown-up you are, the more you like Proust.
I know of no better definition of love than the one given by Proust - Love is space and time measured by the heart.
I've read Proust and Stendhal. That keeps you in your place.
I once read somewhere that Sean Connery left school at the age of 13 and later went on to read Proust and Finnegans Wake and I keep expecting to meet an enthusiastic school leaver on the train, the type of person who only ever reads something because it is marvellous (and so hated school). Unfortunately the enthusiastic school leavers are all minding their own business.
Marcel Proust shut out visitors from his cork-lined room, where he wrote, but he probably expected to be immortalized in the literary canon. Even the most introverted drives and motives are set in a social context and amplified by the potential for achieving fame.
I have depth. I've read Proust. No, wait, that was Pooh. Winnie the Pooh. My bad" Charley Davidson.
The happiness that may emerge from taking a second look is central to Proust's therapeutic conception. It reveals the extent to which our dissatisfactions may be the result of failing to look properly at our lives rather than the result of anything inherently deficient about them.
A novelist who ranks with Proust , Kafka , Musil and his friend James Joyce as one of the enduring pillars of Modernism.
Narrative art, the novel, from Murasaki to Proust, has produced great works of poetry.
A businessman who reads Business Week is lost to fame. One who reads Proust is marked for greatness.
Friendship, according to Proust, is the negation of that irremediable solitude to which every human being is condemned.
When Proust urges us to evaluate the world properly, he repeatedly reminds us of the value of modest scenes.
In a country like France, so ancient, their history is full of outstanding people, so they carry a heavy weight on their back. Who could write in French after Proust or Flaubert?
