That's a line from a book I might read, not from a post I'm about to write, sadly. But when I think about my schooling, it seems I really ought to be able to write about Proust from something like a critical perspective. Maybe tomorrow. Whoops, no --we have a show.
For now, here's an entry in the Copy Book, from Swann's Way, right near the end of the Combray section: "When, on a summer evening, the melodious sky growls like a tawny lion, and everyone is complaining of the storm, it is the memory of the Meseglise way that makes me stand alone in ecstasy, inhaling, through the noise of the falling rain, the lingering scent of invisible lilacs."
Oh yeah! That's what I came here for!