"Regret, like desire, seek satisfaction and not self-analysis: in the beginning of love, our time is spent not in finding out what love is made of, but in trying to make sure we can see each other tomorrow; and at the end of love, we do not try to ascertain the nature of our sorrow, but only to voice it."<Br><br>
— Marcel Proust, In the Shadow of Young Girls in Flower
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