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I think it is all a matter of love: the more you love a memory, the stronger and stranger it is.

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
Memory
Stronger
Memories
Matter
Love
Think
Infatuation
Thinking
Recollection
Stranger

More quotes by Vladimir Nabokov

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Pnin slowly walked under solemn pines. The sky was dying. He did not believe in an autocratic God. He did believe, dimly, in a democracy of ghosts. The souls of the dead, perhaps, formed committees, and these, in continuous session, attended the destinies of the quick.
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Devices which in some curious new way imitate nature are attractive to simple minds.
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I have never seen a more lucid, more lonely, better balanced mad mind than mine.
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Curiosity is insubordination in its purest form.
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Art at its greatest is fantastically deceitful and complex.
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If I correctly understand the sense of this succinct observation, our poet suggests here that human life is but a series of footnotes to a vast obscure unfinished masterpiece.
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We all have such fateful objects -- it may be a recurrent landscape in one case, a number in another -- carefully chosen by the gods to attract events of specific significance for us: here shall John always stumble there shall Jane's heart always break.
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Do not be angry with the rain it simply does not know how to fall upwards.
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I have often noticed that after I had bestowed on the characters of my novels some treasured item of my past, it would pine away in the artificial world where I had so abruptly placed it.
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I see again my schoolroom in Vyra, the blue roses of the wallpaper, the open window.… Everything is as it should be, nothing will ever change, nobody will ever die.
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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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There is the first satisfaction of arranging it on a bit of paper after many, many false tries, false moves, finally you have the sentence you recognize as the one you are looking for.
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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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I would like to spare the time and effort of hack reviewers and, generally, persons who move their lips when reading.
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The tiny madman in his padded cell.
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There is only one school of literature - that of talent.
Vladimir Nabokov
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I shall continue to exist. I may assume other disguises, other forms, but I shall try to exist.
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Literature and butterflies are the two sweetest passions known to man.
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How small the cosmos (a kangaroo's pouch would hold it), how paltry and puny in comparison to human consciousness, to a single individual recollection, and its expression in words!
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And yet I am happy. Yes, happy. I swear. I swear that I am happy...What does it matter that I am a bit cheap, a bit foul, and that no one appreciates all the remarkable things about me-my fantasy, my erudition, my literary gift...I am happy that I can gaze at myself, for any man is absorbing-yes, really absorbing! ... I am happy-yes, happy!
Vladimir Nabokov