Quotes About Deception

Es mucho más fácil matar a un fantasma que a una realidad.

Like and like and like - but what is the thing that lies beneath the semblance of the thing?

Because you took advantage of my disadvantage.

Vladimir Nabokov

I was the shadow of the waxwing slain/By the false azure in the windowpane...

I was the shadow of the waxwing slain By the false azure in the windowpane; I was the smudge of ashen fluff -and I Lived on, flew on, in the reflected sky.

Lo-lee-ta: the tip of the tongue taking a trip of three steps down the palate to tap, at three, on the teeth. Lo. Lee. Ta. She was Lo, plain Lo, in the morning, standing four feet ten in one sock. She was Lola in slacks. She was Dolly at school. She was Dolores on the dotted line. But in my arms she was always Lolita.

Él me destrozó el corazón. Tú destrozaste mi vida.

Perhaps if the year was 1447 instead of 1947 I might have hoodwinked my gentle nature by administering her some classical poison from a hollow agate, some tender philter of death. But in our middle-class nosy era it would not have come off the way it used to in the brocaded palaces of the past. Nowadays you have to be a scientist if you want to be a killer.

All the information I have about myself is from forged documents.

I discovered in nature the non utilitarian delights that I sought in art. Both were a form of magic, both were a game of intricate enchantment and deception.

a little downy girl still wearing poppies still eating popcorn in the colored gloam where tawny Indians took paid croppers because you stole her from her wax-browed and dignified protector spitting into his heavy-lidded eye ripping his flavid toga and at dawn leaving the hog to roll upon his new discomfort the awfulness of love and violets remorse despair while you took a dull doll to pieces and threw its head away because of all you did because of all I did not you have to die

I really knew nothing about her, blinded as I was by that burning loveliness which replaces everything else and justifies everything

S]urely the Cupid serving him was lefthanded, with a weak chin and no imagination.

I am quite willing to admit that they are also a deception but right now I believe in them so much that I infect them with truth.

She groped for words. I supplied them mentally (' He broke my heart. You merely broke my life').

Knight seemed to him to be constantly playing some game of his own invention, without telling his partners its rules.

Since I sometimes won the race between my fancy and nature's reality - the deception was bearable.

Since I sometimes won the race between my fancy and nature's reality, the deception was bearable. Unbearable pain began when chance entered the fray and deprived me of the smile meant for me.

According to my almond-eyed little spy, the great surgeon, may his own liver rot, lied to me when he declared yesterday with a deathhead's grin that the operazione had been perfetta . Well, it had been so in the sense Euler called zero the perfect number. Actually, they ripped me open, cast one horrified look at my decayed fegato , and without touching it sewed me up again.

I am lanky, big-boned, wooly-chested Humbert Humbert, with thick black eyebrows and a queer accent, and a cesspoolful of rotting monsters behind his slow boyish smile.

Es espantoso cuando la vida real de pronto resulta ser un sueño, pero ¡cuánto más espantoso cuando lo que uno ha creído que era un sueño —fluido e irresponsable— de pronto empieza a cuajarse como realidad!

And I catch myself thinking today that our long journey had only been defiled with a sinuous trail of slime the lovely, trustful, dreamy, enormous country that by then, in retrospect, was no more to us than a collection of dog-eared maps, ruined tour books, old tires, and her sobs in the night - every night, every night - the moment I feigned sleep.

Reader! Bruder! What a foolish Hamburg that Hamburg was! Since his supersensitive system was loath to face the actual scene, he thought he could at least enjoy a secret part of it—which reminds one of the tenth or twentieth soldier in the raping queue who throws the girl's black shawl over her white face so as not to see those impossible eyes while taking his military pleasure in the sad, sacked village.