Best Vladimir Nabokov Wisdom
- The lost glove is happy. Glove
- I am not, and never was, and never could have been, a brutal scoundrel. Been
- I loved you. I was a pentapod monster, but I loved you. I was despicable and brutal, and turpid, and everything, mais je t’aimais, je… Brutal
- Oh, my Lolita, I have only words to play with! Funny
- Loneliness as a situation can be corrected, but as a state of mind it is an incurable illness. Corrected
- Just like a man grieving because he has recently lost in his dreams some thing that he had never had in reality, or hoping that… Created
- The thought, when written down, becomes less oppressive, but some thoughts are like a cancerous tumor: you express is, you excise it, and it grows… Becomes
- Lolita, light of my life, fire of my loins. My sin, my soul. Fire
- I grew, a happy, healthy child in a bright world of illustrated books, clean sand, orange trees, friendly dogs, sea vistas and smiling faces. Book
- A cluster of stars palely glowed above us, between the silhouettes of long thin leaves; that vibrant sky seemed as naked as she was under… Cluster
- She would try to relieve the pain of love by first roughly rubbing her dry lips against mine; then my darling would draw away with… Awkward
- But that mimosa grove-the haze of stars, the tingle, the flame, the honey-dew, and the ache remained with me, and that little girl with her… Ache
- We hasten to alienate the very fates we intended to woo. Alienate
- I knew I had fallen in love with Lolita forever; but I also knew she would not be forever Lolita. Fallen
- ...and the red sun of desire and decision (the two things that create a live world) rose higher and higher, while upon a succession of… Balconies
- Was she really beautiful? Was she at least what they call attractive? She was exasperation, she was torture. Attractive
- My heart was a hysterical unreliable organ. Heart
- Maybe the only thing that hints at a sense of Time is rhythm; not the recurrent beats of the rhythm but the gap between two… Beats
- I mean, I have the feeling that something in my mind is poisoning everything else. Everything Else
- The spiral is a spiritualized circle. In the spiral form, the circle, uncoiled, has ceased to be vicious; it has been set free. Been
- ...All my best words are deserters and do not answer the trumpet call, and the remainder are cripples. All
- Lolita, light of my life, fire of my loins. My sin, my soul. Lo-lee-ta: the tip of the tongue taking a trip of three steps… Down
- Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, exhibit number one is what the seraphs, the misinformed, simple, noble-winged seraphs, envied. Look at this tangle of thorns. Envied
- Words without experience are meaningless. Experience
- A sense of security, of well-being, of summer warmth pervades my memory. That robust reality makes a ghost of the present. The mirror brims with… Brightness
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