Marcel Proust Quotes
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 recognise it as having originated in ourselves.
Marcel Proust
Quotes to Explore
You rarely get satisfaction sitting in an easy chair. If you work in a garden on the other hand, and it yields beautiful tomatoes, that's a good feeling.
Dan Buettner
At first blush, it seems odd that loser lit books are rejected initially, then go on to be fiercely loved by legions of readers. This apparent contradiction might be due to the fact that if they didn't screw up their lives, most losers would be the kind of power-elite, Type A go-getters whom readers love to hate.
Kate Christensen
Let me tell you something - being thought of as a beautiful woman has spared me nothing in life. No heartache, no trouble. Love has been difficult. Beauty is essentially meaningless and it is always transitory.
Halle Berry
People love to be told what they know already.
P. J. O'Rourke
The angel of mercy, the child of love, together had flown to the realms above.
Fanny Crosby
I love London, I love the British people.
Yohan Blake
What space brings to you is that global perspective, that planetary perspective, that we're all in this together, and no matter where you're living on Earth, we're all part of this amazing journey.
Dafydd Williams
Food was a labor of love you felt by cooking it and eating it.
George Tillman, Jr.
The nobler a man, the harder it is for him to suspect inferiority in others.
Marcus Tullius Cicero
I have done so much: modeling, acting, singing, the calendar, the lingerie line, and there have been times where I have wanted to give up but I went for it.
Caprice Bourret
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 recognise it as having originated in ourselves.
Marcel Proust
