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by reverse_list
1839 days ago
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Marcel Proust wrote a piece on the subject. > since within twenty-four hours, in the empty frame of that long morrow in which everything was so well arranged because I myself had not yet entered it, my good intentions would be realised without difficulty ... Unfortunately the morrow was not that vast, external day to which I in my fever had looked forward. When it drew to a close, my laziness and my painful struggle to overcome certain internal obstacles had simply lasted twenty-four hours longer. https://www.gutenberg.org/files/63532/63532-h/63532-h.htm |
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