صبّت لسوان شايه، وسألته: «ليمون أم قشطة؟»، فلما أجاب: «قشطة، من فضلك»، قالت ضاحكةً: «سحابة!». ولما أبدى استحسانه، قالت: «ترى، أنا أعرف كيف تحبّه تمامًا». لقد بدا هذا الشاي لسوان، كما بدا لها، شيئًا ثمينًا؛ فالحبّ يحتاج أشدّ الحاجة إلى أن يجد لنفسه مبرّرًا، وضمانًا لدوامه، في لذّاتٍ لا وجود لها بدونه، وستزول بزواله.

“She poured out Swann's tea, inquired "Lemon or cream?" and, on his answering "Cream, please," said to him with a laugh: "A cloud!" And as he pronounced it excellent, "You see, I know just how you like it." This tea had indeed seemed to Swann, just as it seemed to her; something precious, and love has such a need to find some justification for itself, some guarantee of duration, in pleasures which without it would have no existence and must cease with its passing.”Marcel Proust — Remembrance of Things Past: Swann's Way & Within a Budding Grove (1982)