The blogger below exhibits wonderment that Proust's work exists at all. The massive task, the writing and thought and rewriting and trying to get it right. It took most of his life, and in his last years he holed up in his cork-lined room and wrote and wrote.
The discipline that took, from a person who had not formerly exhibited any particular discipline. Proust, we salute you.
http://yolacrary.blogspot.com/2008/03/i-sort-of-cant-believe-it-exists.html
Odette
Monday, March 17, 2008
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