I'm a novelist, so I can't write about ideas unless they're attached to people.
It's easy, after all, not to be a writer. Most people aren't writers, and very little harm comes to them.
When we fall in love, we hope - both egotistically and altruistically - that we shall be finally, truly seen: judged and approved. Of course, love does not always bring approval: being seen may just as well lead to a thumbs-down and a season in hell.
What happiness is there in just the memory of happiness?
To own a certain book - and to choose it without help - is to define yourself.
Remember the botched brothel-visit in L’Education sentimentale and remember its lesson. Do not participate: happiness lies in the imagination, not the act. Pleasure is found first in anticipation, later in memory.