page 54 of 512 of Swann’s Way: In Search of Lost Time, Volume 1

I was thinking about how when you’re a child the days last forever – time is so much more stretched out and rich when everything is new. Proust recreates that sensation, he luxuriates in the smallest details, and all the details connect: a leaf in the moonlight, the smell of the varnish, the sound of the bells, and the taste of cake dipped in tea. This feels like what Bergson was trying to say to Einstein about time.