and i realised the impossibility which love comes up aganist. we imagine that it has as its object a being that can be laid down in front of us, enclosed within a body. alas, it is the extension of that being to all the points in space and time that it has occupied and will occupy. if we do not possess its contact with this or that place, this or that hour, we do not possess that being. but we cannot touch all these points. if only they were indicated to us, we might perhaps contrive to reach out to them. hence mistrust, jealousy, persecutions. we waste precious time on absurd clues and pass by the truth without suspecting it.
proust
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