For what we suppose to be our love or our jealousy is never a single, …

Marcel Proust
245 citations
For what we suppose to be our love or our jealousy is never a single, continuous and indivisible passion. It is composed of an infinity of successive loves, of different jealousies, each of which is ephemeral, although by their uninterrupted multiplicity they give us the impression of continuity, the illusion of unity. ✨ Marcel Proust (1982). Remembrance of Things Past: Swann's Way & Within a Budding Grove, Vintage
Love Time
26

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