Quotes from Vladimir Nabokov

As she began losing track of herself, she though it proper to inform a series of receding Lucettes - telling them to pass it on and on in a trick-crystal regression - that what death amounted to was only a more complete assortment of the infinite fractions of solitude.

Somber Yellowstone Park and its colored hot springs, baby geysers, rainbows of bubbling mud - symbols of my passion.

Nos enamoramos simultáneamente, de una manera frenética, impúdica, agonizante. Y desesperada, debería agregar, porque este arrebato de mutua posesión sólo se habría saciado si cada uno se hubiera embebido y saturado realmente de cada partícula del alma y el corazón del otro

Cuando procuro analizar mis propios anhelos, motivaciones y actos, me rindo ante una especie de imaginación retrospectiva que atiborra la facultad analítica que con infinitas alternativas bifurca incesantemente cada rumbo visualizado en la perspectiva enloquecedoramente compleja de mi pasado

With a heavy heart I left the house and walked through the spotted blaze of the sun to my car. Two other cars were parked on both sides of it, and I had some trouble squeezing out.

I moved on, and at noon, dragging through some village, I decided to halt, since even at such

Nincs több pusztítás, Van. Csak szerelem.

An author's fondest dream is to turn the reader into a spectator; is this ever attained?

before I drove to wherever the beast's lair was - and then pulled the pistol's foreskin back, and then enjoyed the orgasm of the crushed trigger.

I am ready to give you all of my blood, if I had to — it's hard to explain — sounds flat — but that's how it is.

This stood for the Evolution of Sense, his greatest course (with an enrollment of twelve, none even remotely apostolic) which had opened and would close with the phrase destined to be overquoted one day: The evolution of sense is, in a sense, the evolution of nonsense.

Zembla is a site devoted to the life and works of author, translator, and lepidopterist.

Dimly, I recall running up to his chair to show him a pretty pebble, which he slowly examined and then slowly put into his mouth.

emotions of that kind ought to be more restrained, without violet irises and crying violins.

As she began losing track of herself, she thought it proper to inform... them... that what death amounted to was only a more complete assortment of the infinite fractions of solitude.

Once we deny a Higher Intelligence that plans and administrates our individual hereafters we are bound to accept the unspeakably dreadful notion of Chance reaching into Eternity.

Mik az álmok? Jelenetek, triviális vagy tragikus, mozgó vagy statikus, fantasztikus vagy közönséges jelenetek véletlenszer? sorozatai, melyekben többé vagy kevésbé valószer? eseményeket habarcsolnak össze holmi groteszk részletek és holtak jelennek meg bennük új díszletek között.

I was also supposed to quiz my various companions on a number of important matters such as nostalgia, fear of unknown animals, food fantasies, nocturnal emissions, hobbies, choice of radio program, changes in out look and so forth.

We loved - and it has all gone, somewhere... We loved - and now our love is frozen, and now it lies, one wing spread out, raising its little feet - a dead sparrow on the damp gravel... But we loved... we flew...

beyond observing that some law of logic should fix the number of coincidences, in a given domain, after which they cease to be coincidences, and form, instead, the living organism of a new truth ("Tell me," says Osberg's little glitana to the Moors, El Motela and Ramera, "what is the precise minimum of hairs on a body that allows one to call it 'hairy'?")

My knowledge of Mr. Forster's works is limited to one novel which I dislike; and anyway it was not he who fathered that trite little whimsy about characters getting out of hand; it is as old as the quills, although of course one sympathizes with his people if they try to wriggle out of that trip to India or whereever he takes them. My characters are galley slaves.

Solitude is the playfield of Satan. I

The more you love a memory; the stronger and stranger it becomes

eventually, however, a distraught McCoo in wet clothes turned up at the only hotel of green-and-pink Ramsdale with the news that his house had just burned down - possibly, owing to the synchronous conflagration that had been raging all night in my veins.