She was like Marat only with nobody to kill her. Vladimir Nabokov More Quotes by Vladimir Nabokov More Quotes From Vladimir Nabokov The lost glove is happy. Vladimir Nabokov gloveslost 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 novelistshomepast 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 humanitymindart I talk in a daze, I walk in a maze I cannot get out, said the starling Vladimir Nabokov dazemazessaid Discussion in class, which means letting twenty young blockheads and two cocky neurotics discuss something that neither their teacher nor they know. Vladimir Nabokov cockyteachermean Solitude is the playfield of Satan. Vladimir Nabokov satansolitude Caress the detail, the divine detail. Vladimir Nabokov chaosdetailsreligion 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 wiseheartbook A writer should have the precision of a poet and the imagination of a scientist. Vladimir Nabokov should-havewritingart A work of art has no importance whatever to society. It is only important to the individual. Vladimir Nabokov individualimportantart Satire is a lesson, parody is a game. Vladimir Nabokov satirelessonsgames In and out of my heart flowed my rainbow blood. Vladimir Nabokov rainbowheartblood 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 tearsdyingaction Style and Structure are the essence of a book; great ideas are hogwash. Vladimir Nabokov writingbookideas 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 inspirationwaitingwriting 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 starswingsyears He broke my heart. You merely broke my life. Vladimir Nabokov brokemy-heartheart 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 mindwritingcharacter The nostalgia I have been cherishing all these years is a hypertrophied sense of lost childhood, not sorrow for lost banknotes. Vladimir Nabokov childhoodsorrowyears My loathings are simple: stupidity, oppression, crime, cruelty, soft music. Vladimir Nabokov musicsimplestupid
