Showing posts with label Proust. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Proust. Show all posts

Sunday, 13 October 2019

Modern composers, if spoken of at all, were referred to as 'freaks', an opinion with which, in some cases, I am still inclined to agree.

These two splendidly lively and intelligent ladies were a real eye-opener for me, for the ordinary and comfortable middle-class Berkshire circles in which I was then living contained no intellectual ladies of any sort. Nobody narrowed their eyes at one and talked about Proust. Tea-table chat did not include a mention of the Russian Ballet designs of Bakst. Modern composers, if spoken of at all, were referred to as 'freaks', an opinion with which, in some cases, I am still inclined to agree.

A. Marshall, Life's rich pageant (1984), 84

Monday, 7 September 2015

You have to enjoy the statistics

You have to enjoy the statistics. Every time a man steps up to bat, there's a [sic] historical dimension  ... It's the history of the game. Not quick but deep. You have time to bring history to bear.

P. Rose, A year of reading Proust (1999), 95

Disappointingly, this is about baseball, but it should apply to cricket.
From 2008.

Sunday, 6 September 2015

His hatred of snobs derived from his snobbishness

His hatred of snobs derived from his snobbishness, but made the simple - minded (in other words, everyone) believe he was immune from snobbishness

M. Proust, The Guermantes Way (1920/21), 583

N.B. I've found my old book. This from 2008