Quotes About Vladimir

And I still have other smothered memories, now unfolding themselves into limbless monsters of pain.

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

If sex is the sermon made of art, love is the lady of that tower.

If you want to make a movie out of my book, have one of these faces gently melt into my own, while I look.

Certain tight parentheses have been opened and allowed to spill their still active contents.

Dr. Falternfels was writing and smiling; his sandwich was half unwrapped; his dog was dead.

There is nothing so banal in the world,' said Ada 'than pitching stones at a hawfinch.

I shall vomit,' said Hugh, 'if you persist in pestering me with all that odious rot.'

Space' (it says here, rather suggestively) 'denotes the property, you are my property, in virtue of which, you are my virtue, rigid bodies can occupy different positions.' Nice? Nice.

The strange mirage-shimmer standing in for death should not appear too soon in the chronicle and yet it should permeate the first amorous scenes.

but I say give me rain, rain, rain on the shingle roof for roses and inspiration every time

He began with the day's copy of The New York Times. His lips moving like wrestling worms, he read about all kinds of things. Hrushchov

twirling in his fingers the mummy of a cigar

This night the password was silence.

also toyed with The Anthemion which is the name of a honeysuckle ornament, consisting of elaborate interlacements and expanding clusters, but nobody liked it;

a cesspoolful of rotting monsters behind his slow boyish smile.

The name yawned like a black doorway, then the door banged.

And all these are worlds," said Hagen. "Or else," said Clements with a yawn, "a frightful mess. I suspect it is really a fluorescent corpse, and we are inside it.

I first understood that things which to me had seemed natural were actually forbidden

I noticed, for instance, that dreams under the midnight sun tended to be highly coloured, and this my friend the photographer confirmed.

A procession of silver pencils marched down an endless tunnel of corruption.

In which portrayed events forever stay. I think she always nursed a small mad hope.

her autobiography was as devoid of interests as her autopsy would have been. I never saw a healthier woman than she, despite thinning diets.

Oh, he was quite a scholar, Mr. Taxovich.