” ‘My bath is just right,’ she murmured. ‘But the feathers on the dictionary…’ she cried, straightening up ‘Oh, Good Lord, how foolish I am. I was thinking about my hat, and I must have said something ridiculous. Another minute and I would have dozed off. It’s the heat from the fire that does it.’ Everybody began to laugh, for there was no fire.”
— Marcel Proust
