Proust's similes are always a delight:
And I went downstairs, hardly stopping to think how extraordinary it was that I should be going to see the mysterious Mme de Guermantes of my childhood, simply to use her as a source of practical information, as one uses the telephone, that supernatural instrument before whose wonders we were once all in awe, and which we now use unthinkingly, to call our tailor or order an iced dessert.Marcel Proust, The Prisoner, translated by Carol Clark (London: Penguin, 2003), 24
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