Let all of life be an unfettered howl. Like the crowd greeting the gladiator. Don't stop to think, don't interrupt the scream, exhale, release life's rapture. Vladimir Nabokov More Quotes by Vladimir Nabokov More Quotes From Vladimir Nabokov A novelist is, like all mortals, more fully at home on the surface of the present than in the ooze of the past. Vladimir Nabokov novelists home past Although we read with our minds, the seat of artistic delight is between the shoulder blades. That little shiver behind is quite certainly the highest form of emotion that humanity has attained when evolving pure art and pure science. Let us worship the spine and its tingle. Vladimir Nabokov humanity mind art I talk in a daze, I walk in a maze I cannot get out, said the starling Vladimir Nabokov daze mazes said Discussion in class, which means letting twenty young blockheads and two cocky neurotics discuss something that neither their teacher nor they know. Vladimir Nabokov cocky teacher mean Solitude is the playfield of Satan. Vladimir Nabokov satan solitude Caress the detail, the divine detail. Vladimir Nabokov chaos details religion A wise reader reads the book of genius not with his heart, not so much with his brain, but with his spine. It is there that occurs the telltale tingle. Vladimir Nabokov wise heart book A writer should have the precision of a poet and the imagination of a scientist. Vladimir Nabokov should-have writing art A work of art has no importance whatever to society. It is only important to the individual. Vladimir Nabokov individual important art Satire is a lesson, parody is a game. Vladimir Nabokov satire lessons games In and out of my heart flowed my rainbow blood. Vladimir Nabokov rainbow heart blood And presently I was driving through the drizzle of the dying day, with the windshield wipers in full action but unable to cope with my tears. Vladimir Nabokov tears dying action Style and Structure are the essence of a book; great ideas are hogwash. Vladimir Nabokov writing book ideas After the first shock of recognition - a sudden sense of "this is what I'm going to write" - the novel starts to breed by itself; the process goes on solely in the mind, not on paper. I feel a kind of gentle development, an uncurling inside, and I know that the details are there already, that in fact I would see them plainly if I looked closer, but I prefer to wait until what is loosely called inspiration has completed the task for me. Vladimir Nabokov inspiration waiting writing A thousand years ago five minutes were Equal to forty ounces of fine sand. Outstare the stars. Infinite foretime and Infinite aftertime: above your head They close like giant wings, and you are dead. Vladimir Nabokov stars wings years He broke my heart. You merely broke my life. Vladimir Nabokov broke my-heart heart The more gifted and talkative one's characters are, the greater the chances of their resembling the author in tone or tint of mind. Vladimir Nabokov mind writing character The nostalgia I have been cherishing all these years is a hypertrophied sense of lost childhood, not sorrow for lost banknotes. Vladimir Nabokov childhood sorrow years My loathings are simple: stupidity, oppression, crime, cruelty, soft music. Vladimir Nabokov music simple stupid I knew I had fallen in love with Lolita forever; but I also knew she would not be forever Lolita. Vladimir Nabokov fallen forever
