Literature and butterflies are the two sweetest passions known to man. Vladimir Nabokov More Quotes by Vladimir Nabokov More Quotes From Vladimir Nabokov Do not be angry with the rain; it simply does not know how to fall upwards. Vladimir Nabokov raininspirationalfall The only real number is one, the rest are mere repetition Vladimir Nabokov repetitionrealnumbers Our imagination flies -- we are its shadow on the earth. Vladimir Nabokov shadowimaginationart Mind you, sometimes the angels smoke, hiding it with their sleeves, and when the archangel comes, they throw the cigarettes away: that’s when you get shooting stars. Vladimir Nabokov angelstarsmind Toska - noun /ˈtō-skə/ - Russian word roughly translated as sadness, melancholia, lugubriousness. "No single word in English renders all the shades of toska. At its deepest and most painful, it is a sensation of great spiritual anguish, often without any specific cause. At less morbid levels it is a dull ache of the soul, a longing with nothing to long for, a sick pining, a vague restlessness, mental throes, yearning. In particular cases it may be the desire for somebody of something specific, nostalgia, love-sickness. At the lowest level it grades into ennui, boredom. Vladimir Nabokov sadnesssickspiritual Life is just one small piece of light between two eternal darknesses. Vladimir Nabokov lightdarknesstwo And the rest is rust and stardust. Vladimir Nabokov stardustrust I have no desires, save the desire to express myself in defiance of all the world’s muteness. Vladimir Nabokov defiancedesireworld Play! Invent the world! Invent reality! Vladimir Nabokov playrealityworld Knowing you have something good to read before bed is among the most pleasurable of sensations. Vladimir Nabokov knowingreadingbook Existence is a series of footnotes to a vast, obscure, unfinished masterpiece. Vladimir Nabokov inspirationallifefunny Perhaps, somewhere, some day, at a less miserable time, we may see each other again. Vladimir Nabokov miserablemay The writer's job is to get the main character up a tree, and then once they are up there, throw rocks at them. Vladimir Nabokov writingjobscharacter All the seven deadly sins are peccadilloes but without three of them, Pride, Lust, and Sloth, poetry might never have been born. Vladimir Nabokov slothpridelust Our best yesterdays are now foul piles of crumpled names. Vladimir Nabokov foulnamesyesterday Loneliness as a situation can be corrected, but as a state of mind it is an incurable illness. Vladimir Nabokov illnesslonelinessmind The contemplation of beauty, whether it be a uniquely tinted sunset, a radiant face, or a work of art, makes us glance back unwittingly at our personal past and juxtapose ourselves and our inner being with the utterly unattainable beauty revealed to us. Vladimir Nabokov sunsetpastart The pages are still blank, but there is a miraculous feeling of the words being there, written in invisible ink and clamoring to become visible. Vladimir Nabokov blank-mindfeelingswriting 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 crowdslife-isthinking I think like a genius, I write like a distinguished author, and I speak like a child. Vladimir Nabokov writingchildrenthinking
