“Do you imagine that the poisonous spittle of five hundred little men of your sort, hoisted on to each other's shoulders, could… — Marcel Proust Copy Share Image
“Mme Verdurin asked him: "Did you have some of my orangeade?" Whereupon M. de Charlus, with a gracious smile, in a crystalline… — Marcel Proust Copy Share Image
“M. de Charlus persisted in not replying. I thought I could see a smile flicker about his lips: the smile of the… — Marcel Proust Copy Share Image
“At that moment, noticing that his embroidered handkerchief was revealing part of its coloured edging, he thrust it back into his pocket… — Marcel Proust Copy Share Image
“He lives at Balbec?” crooned the Baron in a tone so far from interrogatory that it is regrettable that the written language… — Marcel Proust Copy Share Image
“M. de Charlus made no reply and looked as if he had not heard, which was one of his favourite forms of… — Marcel Proust Copy Share Image
“...As for all the little people who call themselves Marquis de Cambremerde or de Gotoblazes, there is no difference between them and… — Marcel Proust Copy Share Image
