I looked and looked at her, and I knew, as clearly as I know that I will die, that I loved her more than anything I had ever seen or imagined on earth. She was only the dead-leaf echo of the nymphet from long ago - but I loved her, this Lolita, pale and polluted and big with another man's child. She could fade and wither - I didn't care. I would still go mad with tenderness at the mere sight of her face.
Vladimir NabokovTo each, or about each, of his colleagues he had said at one time or other, something... something impossible to recall in this or that case and difficult to define in general terms -- some careless bright and harsh trifle that had grazed a stretch of raw flesh.
Vladimir NabokovI esteem my colleagues as I do my own self, I esteem them for two things: because they are able to find perfect felicity in specialized knowledge and because they are not apt to commit physical murder.
Vladimir NabokovTag: academia
The square root of I is I.
Vladimir NabokovTag: philosophy self ego
We live in a stocking which is in the process of being turned inside out, without our ever knowing for sure to what phase of the process our moment of consciousness corresponds.
Vladimir NabokovTag: philosophy hermeneutics stockings
Devices which in some curious new way imitate nature are attractive to simple minds.
Vladimir NabokovTag: nature simple-minds
Ink, a Drug.
Vladimir NabokovTag: writing drugs writers-on-writing ink
The lost glove is happy.
Vladimir NabokovTag: loss melancholy gloves
...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 NabokovI am not, and never was, and never could have been, a brutal scoundrel.
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