Sodome et Gomorrhe, de Marcel Proust

I reread it again, now in French, and was so overwhelmed as the other times. Proust writes so perfectly, he has such an incredible grasp of people's feelings and such a mastery of words and language that one is always wondering how can someone convey these things so accurately. It's interesting how what he says about emotions, or homosexuality, can be so actual, it shows how human nature has changed so little in 100 years - but then, isn't the extraordinary insight of men like Montaigne or Marcus Aurelius a proof that it hasn't changed for many centuries? Anyway, it's always an immense pleasure to read Proust, À la recherche du temps perdu is definitely the book I would take to that desert island.