He broke my heart. You merely broke my life. Vladimir Nabokov More Quotes by Vladimir Nabokov More Quotes From Vladimir Nabokov Measure me while I live - after it will be too late. Vladimir Nabokov latetoo-late The general impression is that fifteen year-old Dolly remains morbidly uninterested in sexual matters, or to be exact, represses her curiosity in order to save her ignorance and self-dignity. Vladimir Nabokov ignoranceselforder Old birds like Orlovius are wonderfully easy to lead by the beak, because a combination of decency and sentimentality is exactly equal to being a fool. Vladimir Nabokov fooleasybird My Lolita remarked: "You know, what's so dreadful about dying is that you are completely on your own"; and it struck me, as my automaton knees went up and down, that I simply did not know a thing about my darling's mind and that quite possibly, behind the awful juvenile cliches, there was in her a garden and a twilight, and a palace gate - dim and adorable regions which happened to be lucidly and absolutely forbidden to me, in my polluted rags and miserable convulsions. Vladimir Nabokov adorablegardentwilight What surprises you in life? The marvel of consciousness -- that sudden window swinging open on a sunlit landscape amidts the night of non-being. Vladimir Nabokov landscapesurprisenight A philistine is a full-grown person whose interests are of a material and commonplace nature, and whose mentality is formed of the stock ideas and conventional ideals of his or her group and time. Vladimir Nabokov groupsinterestideas I still dwelled deep in my elected paradise--a paradise whose skies were the color of hell-flames--but still a paradise. Vladimir Nabokov flamescolorsky You lose your immortality when you lose your memory. Vladimir Nabokov immortalitylosesmemories Look at this tangle of thorns. Vladimir Nabokov thornslooks A work of art has no importance whatever to society. It is only important to the individual, and only the individual reader is important to me. I don't give a damn for the group, the community, the masses, and so forth. Vladimir Nabokov communitygivingart Do not be awed by giant predecessors. Be ill-tempered with their renown. Point out flaws. Frighten interviewers from Time. Appear in Playboy. Sell to the movies. Vladimir Nabokov ill-temperedgiantslife I think my favorite fact about myself is that I have never been dismayed by a critic's bilge or bile, and have never once in my life asked or thanked a reviewer for a review. Vladimir Nabokov my-favoritefactsthinking if a violin string could ache, i would be that string. Vladimir Nabokov stringsviolinwould-be a person hoping to become a poet must have the capacity of thinking of several things at a time. Vladimir Nabokov poetcapacitythinking - Might it console you to know that I expect nothing but torture from her return? That I regard you as a bird of paradise? She shook her head. - That my admiration for you is painfully strong? - I want Van – she cried – and not intangible admiration. - Intangible? You goose. You my gauge it, you may brush it once very lightly with the knuckles of you gloved hand. I said knuckles. I said once. That will do. I can't kiss you. Not even your burning face. Good-bye, pet. Tell Edmond to take a nap after he returns. I shall need him at two in the morning. Vladimir Nabokov kissingstrongmorning Between the wolf in the tall grass and the wolf in the tall story there is a shimmering go-between. That go-between, that prism, is the art of literature. Vladimir Nabokov storieswritingart I do not see any essential difference between abstract and primitive art. Both are simple and sincere. Naturally, we should not generalize in these matters: It is the individual artist that counts. Vladimir Nabokov differencessimpleart Whatever his secret was, I have learnt one secret too, and namely: that the soul is but a manner of being - not a constant state - that any soul may be yours, if you find and follow its undulations. The hereafter may be the full ability of consciously living in any chosen soul, in any number of souls, all of them unconscious of their interchangeable burden. Vladimir Nabokov soulsecretnumbers Stirless, I stand at the window, and in the black bowl of the sky glows like a golden drop of honey the mellow moon Vladimir Nabokov blackmoonsky Poor Knight! he really had two periods, the firsta dull man writing broken English, the seconda broken man writing dull English. Vladimir Nabokov knightswritingmen
