I was the shadow of the waxwing slain By the false azure in the windowpane; I was the smudge of ashen fluff -and I Lived on, flew on, in the reflected sky. And from the inside, too, I'd duplicate Myself, my lamp, an apple on a plate: Uncurtaining the night, I'd let dark glass Hang all the furniture above the… — Vladimir Nabokov Copy Share
It's a pity one can't imagine what one can't compare to anything. Genius is an African who dreams up snow. — Vladimir Nabokov Copy Share Image
“This twinned twinkle was delightful but not completely satisfying; or rather it only sharpened my appetite for other tidbits of light and… — Vladimir Nabokov Copy Share Image
“The days of my youth, as I look back on them; seem to fly away from me in a flurry of pale… — Vladimir Nabokov Copy Share Image
“The day, a compunctious Sunday after a week of blizzards, had been part jewel, part mud. In the midst of my usual… — 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
