"I observed the rare, almost archaic phrases which he liked to employ at certain points, where a hidden flow of harmony, a prelude contained and concealed in the work itself would animate and elevate his style. . ."
This is Proust's comment upon the favorite author of his childhood, Bergotte. Proust is drawn to Bergotte because he cannot decipher exactly what makes his words so enthralling. This fascination with the art of writing is what later inspires Proust's determination to record his own life in a novel.
"The past is hidden somewhere outside the realm, beyond the reach of intellect, in some material object (in the sensation which that material object will give us) which we do not suspect."
Much like his commentary on Bergotte, Proust observes how memory is yet another example of something not quite expressible. He longs desperately to communicate his experience of memory, but he cannot ever materialize something which has been lost to the constant decay of time.
"An exquisite pleasure had invaded my senses, but individual, detached, with no suggestion of its origin. And at once the vicissitudes of life had become indifferent to me, its disasters innocuous, its brevity illusory -- this new sensation having had on me the effect which love has of filling me with a precious essence; or rather this essence was not in me, it was myself. I had ceased now to feel mediocre, accidental, mortal."
After eating a petite madeleine, a type of cookie which Aunt Leonie used to give him as a child, Proust is struck instantly with an unlocking of his previously forgotten memories. He is transported right back to the innocence of early childhood, able to feel once more powerful and complete, devoid of the insecurities and fears which haunt the experience of adulthood. In this one encounter Proust is overwhelmed by the power of memory and becomes determined to convey this experience and the memories contained within in its totality for his readers.
". . .There had been hoisted into the 'Twister' Albertine's boxes also, narrow and black, which had seemed to me to have the appearance of coffins, and as to which I knew not whether they were bringing to my house life or death."
When Albertine moves in, she introduces a great deal of uncertainty in Proust's environment. He is not accustomed to sharing his authority over home and lifestyle with another and struggles to embrace Albertine's differences, especially after her learns of her reputation as a flirt. As Proust observes, he senses from the beginning that Albertine marks some unavoidable change in his life, but he cannot discern if it will be good or bad yet. This scene foreshadows Albertine's death, which fulfills Proust's suspicions.
