"Every love is an exercise in depersonalization on a body without organs yet to be formed, and it is as the highest point of this depersonalization that someone can be named, receives his or her family name or first name, acquires the most intense discernibility in the instantaneous apprehension of the multiplicities belonging to him or her, and to which he or she belongs. A pack of freckles on a face, a pack of boys speaking through the voice of a woman, a clutch of girls in Charles' voice, a horde of wolves in somebody's throat, a multiciplicity of anuses in the anus, mouth, or eye one is intent upon. We each go through so many bodies with each other. Albertine is slowly extracted from a group of girls with its own number, organization, code, and heirarchy; and not only is this group or restricted mass suffused by an unconscious, but Albertine has her own multiplicities that the narrator, once he has isolated her, discovers on her body and in her lies--until the end of their love returns her to the indiscernible."
--Gilles Deleuze and Felix Guattari, "1914: One or Several Wolves?"
"But Dad was always reading something. Should we have been suspicious when he started plowing through Proust the year before? Was that a sign of desperation? It's said, after all, that people reach middle age the day they realize they're never going to read Remembrance of Things Past." Alison Bechdel, Fun Home.