Imagine me; I shall not exist if you do not imagine me; try to discern the doe in me, trembling in the forest of my own iniquity; let's even smile a little. After all, there is no harm in smiling.
Vladimir NabokovLas aptitudes artísticas no son caracteres sexuales secundarios, como han dicho ciertos charlatanes y chamanes, sino todo lo contrario: la sexualidad está al servicio del arte.
Vladimir NabokovMots clés lolita
We live not only in a world of thoughts, but also in a world of things. Words without experience are meaningless.
Vladimir NabokovIt is not the artistic aptitudes that are secondary sexual characters as some shams and shamans have said; it is the other way around: sex is but the ancilla of art.
Vladimir NabokovThere are two kinds of visual memory: one when you skillfully recreate an image in the laboratory of your mind, [...]; and the other when you instantly evoke, with shut eyes, on the dark innerside of your eyelids, the objective, absolutely optical replica of a beloved face, a little ghost in natural colors.
Vladimir NabokovIt is strange that the tactile sense, which is so infinitely less precious to men than sight, becomes at critical moments our main, if not only, handle to reality.
Vladimir NabokovI talk in a daze, I walk in a maze
I cannot get out, said the starling
Mots clés lolita
If sex is the sermon made of art, love is the lady of that tower.
Vladimir NabokovOnly one letter divides the comic from the cosmic.
Vladimir NabokovWhat I heard was but the melody of children at play, nothing but that, and so limpid was the air that within this vapor of blended voices, majestic and minute, remote and magically near, frank and divinely enigmatic—one could hear now and then, as if released, an almost articulate spurt of vivid laughter, or the crack of a bat, or the clatter of a toy wagon, but it was all really too far for the eye to distinguish any movement in the lightly etched streets. I stood listening to that musical vibration from my lofty slope, to those flashes of separate cries with a kind of demure murmur for background, and then I knew that the hopelessly poignant thing was not Lolita’s absence from my side, but the absence of her voice from that concord.
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