Marcel Proust, ‘In Search of Lost Time, Vol. 1: Swann’s Way’ (1913)

I’d give three out of four limbs to be able to write like him, and, even presuming that the limb saved was my writing arm, and that I had to spend as much time as he did in bed, ignoring for a second that it was due to asthma, an affliction we both share, it would still be highly doubted that I could be anywhere near as adept, majestic or grand with my prose, my memories, my faces.