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There is nothing in the world that I loathe more than group activity, that communal bath where the hairy and slippery mix in a multiplication of mediocrity.
Vladimir Nabokov
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Vladimir Nabokov
Age: 77 †
Born: 1899
Born: January 1
Died: 1977
Died: January 1
Autobiographer
Chess Composer
Chess Player
Journalist
Lepidopterist
Literary Critic
Novelist
Playwright
Poet
Science Fiction Writer
St. Petersburg
Vladimir Vladimirovich Nabokov
Vladimir Sirin
Vl. Sirin
Wladimir Nabokoff-Sirin
V. Sirin
World
Slippery
Loathe
Baths
Mediocrity
Group
Hairy
Activity
Multiplication
Groups
Communal
Nothing
Bath
More quotes by Vladimir Nabokov
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His wings were failing, but he refused to fall without a struggle.
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...for the human brain can become the best torture house of all those it has invented, established and used in a millions of years, in millions of lands, on millions of howling creatures.
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Occasionally, in the middle of a conversation her name would be mentioned, and she would run down the steps of a chance sentence, without turning her head.
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When I receive a new novel from a hopeful publisher - hoping that I like the book as much as he does - I check first of all how much dialog there is, and if it looks too abundant or too sustained, I shut the book with a bang.
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All the information I have about myself is from forged documents.
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Literature and butterflies are the two sweetest passions known to man.
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Existence is a series of footnotes to a vast, obscure, unfinished masterpiece.
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There he stood, in the camouflage of sun and shade, disfigured by them and masked by his own nakedness.
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Do those clowns really believe what they teach?
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while the scientist sees everything that happens in one point of space, the poet feels everything that happens in one point of time.
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All my life I have been a poor go-to-sleeper. No matter how great my weariness, the wrench of parting with consciousness is unspeakably repulsive to me.
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Solitude is the playfield of Satan.
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Alas! In vain historians pry and probe: The same wind blows, and in the same live robe Truth bends her head to fingers curved cupwise And with a woman's smile and a child's care Examines something she is holding there Concealed by her own shoulder from our eyes.
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My own ultraviolet darling. Lolita
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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.
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I need you, the reader, to imagine us, for we don't really exist if you don't.
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Memory overshadows the present and dims the future into something thicker than its usual pea soup.
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Curiously enough, one cannot read a book one can only reread it. A good reader, a major reader, and active and creative reader is a rereader.
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