Memory overshadows the present and dims the future "into something thicker than its usual pea soup." — Vladimir Nabokov Copy Share Image
I should allow only my heart to have imagination; and for the rest rely on memory, that long drawn sunset of one's… — Vladimir Nabokov Copy Share Image
It is strange how a memory will grow into a wax figure, how the cherub grows suspiciously prettier as its frame darkens… — Vladimir Nabokov Copy Share Image
I witness with pleasure the supreme achievement of memory, which is the masterly use it makes of innate harmonies when gathering to… — Vladimir Nabokov Copy Share Image
Remembrance, like Rembrandt, is dark but festive. Remembered ones dress up for the occasion and sit still. Memory is a photo-studio de… — Vladimir Nabokov Copy Share Image
A sense of security, of well-being, of summer warmth pervades my memory. That robust reality makes a ghost of the present. The… — Vladimir Nabokov Copy Share Image
“It had lasted no more than four days—four days which were perhaps the happiest days of his life. But now he had… — Vladimir Nabokov Copy Share Image
My very photogenic mother died in a freak accident (picnic, lightning) when I was three, and, save for a pocket of warmth… — Vladimir Nabokov Copy Share Image
Have you ever happened, reader, to feel that subtle sorrow of parting with an unloved abode? The heart does not break, as… — Vladimir Nabokov Copy Share Image
There are two kinds of visual memory: one when you skillfully recreate an image in the laboratory of your mind, with your… — 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 Image
“Ami azt illeti, Vannak kezdtek nagyon tetszeni a fák is, a csodák is meg az Adák is.” — Vladimir Nabokov Copy Share Image
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 Image
“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 Image
“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 Image
