It's late in the day and I have been feeling decidedly under the weather. So rather than post about whatever fascinating subject I was going to investigate in great depth with amazing insight, I give you this quote:
Then all my images, all my reflections and all my epithets, taken in themselves and with no memory of the failure of my aims that they represented, charmed me with their brilliance, their novelty and their profundity. And when I sensed too great a failure, I took refuge in the soul of your average admiring reader, and said: 'Well, how could a reader notice that? There may be something lacking there I admit. But heavens above, they ought to count themselves lucky! It's full enough of good things as it is, far more than they usually get.'
(from pp. 535-36, The Prisoner and The Fugitive by Marcel Proust as translated by Peter Collier and published by Penguin UK)
Happy Friday to all, and a fabulous weekend as well!