Few men realize that their life, the very essence of their character, their capabilities and their audacities are only the expression of their belief in the safety of their surroundings.
La véritable réalité n'[est] dégagée que par l'esprit.
Proust, Sodome et Gomorrhe II, Gallimard, "Quarto", page 1337.
C'est toujours une invisible croyance qui soutient l'édifice de notre monde sensitif, et privé de quoi il chancelle.
Proust, Albertine disparue, Gallimard, "Quarto", page 1939.
"Have you got family?" she asked.
"I said no. Lost them early."
"No brothers, sisters? Cousins, even?"
"Cousins, maybe. I don't keep in touch."
She shook her head. "That's sad."
"What's sad about it? [...] To you a solitary life is unimaginable. [...] But see that little skiff heading off toward the horizon, the one with the black sail?
That's me. And I'm happy out there."
Private Detective Philip Marlowe.
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