It is a singular reaction, this sitting still and writing, writing, writing, or ruminating at length, which is much the same, really. — Vladimir Nabokov Copy Share Image
“Just as the universal family of gifted writers transcends national barriers, so is the gifted reader a universal figure, not subject to… — Vladimir Nabokov Copy Share Image
I think like a genius, I write like a distinguished author, and I speak like a child. — Vladimir Nabokov Copy Share Image
It was an interesting thing to do. Why did I write any of my books, after all? For the sake of the… — Vladimir Nabokov Copy Share Image
“A writer is lost when he grows interested in such questions as 'what is art?' and 'what is an artist's duty?” — Vladimir Nabokov Copy Share Image
a man who has decided upon self-destruction is far removed from mundane affairs, and to sit down and write his will would… — Vladimir Nabokov Copy Share Image
A writer should have the precision of a poet and the imagination of a scientist. — Vladimir Nabokov Copy Share Image
My principal failing as a writer is the lack of spontaneity; the nuisance of parallel thoughts, second thoughts, third thoughts; inability to… — Vladimir Nabokov Copy Share Image
Even while writing his book, he had become painfully aware how little he knew his own planet while attempting to piece together… — Vladimir Nabokov Copy Share Image
“Corny trash, vulgar clichés, Philistinism in all its phases, imitations of imitations, bogus profundities, crude, moronic and dishonest pseudo-literature—these are obvious examples.… — Vladimir Nabokov Copy Share Image
“A first-rate college library with a comfortable campus around it is a fine milieu for a writer. There is, of course, the… — Vladimir Nabokov Copy Share Image
Literature is invention. Fiction is fiction. To call a story a true story is an insult to both art and truth. — Vladimir Nabokov Copy Share Image
I do not begin my novel at the beginning, I do not reach chapter three before I reach chapter four, I do… — Vladimir Nabokov Copy Share Image
After the first shock of recognition - a sudden sense of "this is what I'm going to write" - the novel starts… — Vladimir Nabokov Copy Share Image
“to play a solitary game of chequers, to read, to write – what should I do?” — Vladimir Nabokov Copy Share Image
“Annabel was, like the writer, of mixed parentage: half-English, half-Dutch, in her case. I remember her features far less distinctly today than… — Vladimir Nabokov Copy Share Image
Existence is a series of footnotes to a vast, obscure, unfinished masterpiece. — Vladimir Nabokov Copy Share Image
“The pale organisms of literary heroes feeding under the author's supervision swell gradually with the reader's lifeblood; so that the genius of… — 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
“And speaking of this wonderful machine: [840] I’m puzzled by the difference between Two methods of composing: A , the kind Which… — Vladimir Nabokov Copy Share Image
The thought, when written down, becomes less oppressive, but some thoughts are like a cancerous tumor: you express is, you excise it,… — Vladimir Nabokov Copy Share Image
Only ambitious nonentities and hearty mediocrities exhibit their rough drafts. It's like passing around samples of sputum. — Vladimir Nabokov Copy Share Image
The writer's job is to get the main character up a tree, and then once they are up there, throw rocks at… — Vladimir Nabokov Copy Share Image
“Although I am capable, through long dabbling in blue magic, of imitating any prose in the world (but singularly enough not verse—I… — 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 Image
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
