To play safe, I prefer to accept only one type of power: the power of art over trash, the triumph of magic… — Vladimir Nabokov Copy Share Image
“Great sleepless artists who had to die for a few hours in order to live for centuries.” — Vladimir Nabokov Copy Share Image
Between the wolf in the tall grass and the wolf in the tall story there is a shimmering go-between. That go-between, that… — Vladimir Nabokov Copy Share Image
A work of art has no importance whatever to society. It is only important to the individual, and only the individual reader… — Vladimir Nabokov Copy Share Image
“Reality is neither the subject nor the object of true art which creates its own special reality having nothing to do with… — Vladimir Nabokov Copy Share Image
Although I do not care for the slogan "art for art's sake", there can be no question that what makes a work… — Vladimir Nabokov Copy Share Image
“It is not the artistic aptitudes that are secondary sexual characters as some shams and shamans have said; it is the other… — Vladimir Nabokov Copy Share Image
“We are liable to miss the best of life if we do not know how to tingle, if we do not learn… — Vladimir Nabokov Copy Share Image
Beauty plus pity-that is the closest we can get to a definition of art. Where there is beauty there is pity for… — Vladimir Nabokov Copy Share Image
Neither in environment nor in heredity can I find the exact instrument that fashioned me, the a.non.y.muse roller that passed upon my… — Vladimir Nabokov Copy Share Image
“For me a work of fiction exists only insofar as it affords me what I shall bluntly call aesthetic bliss, that is… — Vladimir Nabokov Copy Share Image
“Eystein had also resorted to a weird form of trickery: among his decorations of wood or wool, gold or velvet, he would… — Vladimir Nabokov Copy Share Image
“The kind of poem I produced in those days was hardly anything more than a sign I made of being alive, of… — Vladimir Nabokov Copy Share Image
“He suggested I play golf, but finally agreed to give me something that, he said, "would really work"; and going to a… — Vladimir Nabokov Copy Share Image
“I notice I may have somehow mixed up two events, my visit with Rita to Briceland on our way to Cantrip, and… — Vladimir Nabokov Copy Share Image
The contemplation of beauty, whether it be a uniquely tinted sunset, a radiant face, or a work of art, makes us glance… — Vladimir Nabokov Copy Share Image
A creative writer must study carefully the works of his rivals, including the Almighty. He must possess the inborn capacity not only… — Vladimir Nabokov Copy Share Image
“Neither in environment nor in heredity can I find the exact instrument that fashioned me, the anonymous roller that pressed upon my… — Vladimir Nabokov Copy Share Image
Chess problems demand from the composer the same virtues that characterize all worthwhile art: originality, invention, conciseness, harmony, complexity, and splendid insincerity — Vladimir Nabokov Copy Share Image
“...under no circumstances would he [Humbert Humbert] have interfered with the innocence of a child, if there was the least risk of a row.” — Vladimir Nabokov Copy Share
The cradle rocks above an abyss, and common sense tells us that our existence is but a brief crack of light between two eternities… — Vladimir Nabokov Copy Share
“Ami azt illeti, Vannak kezdtek nagyon tetszeni a fák is, a csodák is meg az Adák is.” — Vladimir Nabokov Copy Share
We live not only in a world of thoughts, but also in a world of things. Words without experience are meaningless. — Vladimir Nabokov Copy Share
“It isn’t possible. I cannot imagine it. Come on over here, you foolish little doe, and tell me on what day I shall die.” — Vladimir Nabokov Copy Share
“Precautions to be taken in the case Of freak reincarnation: what to do On suddenly discovering that you Are now a young and vulnerable… — Vladimir Nabokov Copy Share
“It is indeed a tricky name. It is often misspelt, because the eye tends to regard the "a" of the first syllable as a… — Vladimir Nabokov Copy Share
“(T)here exist friendships which develop their own inner duration, their own eons of transparent time.” — Vladimir Nabokov Copy Share
