The time was long past when I had all too tentatively begun at Balbec by adding to my visual sensations when I gazed at Albertine sensations of taste, of smell, of touch. Since then, other more profound, more tender, indefinable sensations had been added to them.
In short, Albertine was merely, like a stone round which snow has gathered, the generating centre of an immense structure which rose above the plane of my heart.
Let us leave pretty women to men with no imagination.
We never know what is concealed in our heart of hearts.