tHe Memory of tHINGS

[The past is] somewhere beyond the reach of the intellect,
and unmistakably present in some material object (or in sensation
which such an object arouses in us), though we have no idea which
one it is. As for that object, it depends entirely on chance
whether we come upon it before we die or whether we never
encounter it.

Marcel Proust, Swann's Way