“If you write to me, could you possibly seal your letter? Or if not, don’t mention the book, because I don’t want my servants to get to know all about that.”
♦
“I enclose with this letter some unpublished pages extracted from my forthcoming book which I should very much like to see appear in your review.”
♦
“The story is so well-known that the name of the fiancé will be obvious if I tell you that the lady in question is Madam Bischoffsheim…”
♦
“I should be most grateful if you would read this letter to the end, destroy it or send it back to me, and not breathe a word of it to anyone whatsoever.”
♦
“It was very nice of you to write to me about your marriage; it would have been nicer still if you had invited me to it.”
♦
“I send you herewith, in very inelegant form and on the paper which I use to light my anti-asthmatic powders—all that I have to hand—my warmest and most sincere congratulations on your wonderful prize.”
♦
“Although you abandon me I often look at your little face and think and think.”
♦
“I telephoned you last night at the Gil Blas.”
♦
“I’m already behindhand in thanking you for your beautiful letter and now I receive three cards.”
♦
“I should be infinitely grateful if you could tell me whether, in your opinion, this contract prevents me legally (without risk of a lawsuit, etc.) from publishing my second volume with another publisher.”
♦
“Thank you very much for your letter—one sentence was ravishing (crepuscular, etc.)…”
♦
“I’m genuinely sorry to keep bothering you, especially if you are still on holiday and would no doubt prefer to forget for a while that there is such a thing as a stock exchange.”
♦
“I should have preferred to tell you this in person.”
♦
“You said you would write to me, you have written to me, and I am amazed.”
♦
Opening lines to various letters, from Marcel Proust: Selected Letters, Volume Three, 1910 – 1917.
Matilda Magtree 
These are fascinating peeks into his past.
I loved this one: “It was very nice of you to write to me about your marriage; it would have been nicer still if you had invited me to it.”
In my mind he wrote the letter to a nephew, or a friend who had distanced himself from him. It’s a backhanded congratulations, something that puts the letter writer in a defensive position. As the kids would say today, “Awkward.”
My favourite was this:
“I send you herewith, in very inelegant form and on the paper which I use to light my anti-asthmatic powders—all that I have to hand—my warmest and most sincere congratulations on your wonderful prize.”
Was he so excited at the news of his friend’s prize that he scribbled a note on the first available thing?
Or a master at subtle digs…
The latter makes me happier. (;