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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
Group
Hairy
Activity
Multiplication
Groups
Communal
Nothing
Bath
World
Slippery
Loathe
Baths
Mediocrity

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...All my best words are deserters and do not answer the trumpet call, and the remainder are cripples.
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Genius is an African who dreams up snow.
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Nothing revives the past so completely as a smell that was once associated with it.
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It is a short walk from the hallelujah to the hoot.
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It was an interesting thing to do. Why did I write any of my books, after all? For the sake of the pleasure, for the sake of the difficulty. I have no social purpose, no moral message I've no general ideas to exploit, I just like composing riddles with elegant solutions.
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His wings were failing, but he refused to fall without a struggle.
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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 her light frock. I saw her face in the sky, strangely distinct, as if it emitted a faint radiance of its own.
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Stirless, I stand at the window, and in the black bowl of the sky glows like a golden drop of honey the mellow moon
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I am probably responsible for the odd fact that people don't seem to name their daughters Lolita any more. I have heard of young female poodles being given that name since 1956, but of no human beings.
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We live not only in a world of thoughts, but also in a world of things. Words without experience are meaningless.
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My own ultraviolet darling. Lolita
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I shall be dumped where the weed decays, And the rest is rust and stardust
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I think it is all a matter of love.
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I confess, I do not believe in time.
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And presently I was driving through the drizzle of the dying day, with the windshield wipers in full action but unable to cope with my tears.
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I have never seen a more lucid, more lonely, better balanced mad mind than mine.
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