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Dear Jesus, do something.

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
Something
Dear
Jesus

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Sleep is the most moronic fraternity in the world, with the heaviest dues and the crudest rituals. It is a mental torture I find debasing... I simply cannot get used to the nightly betrayal of reason, humanity, genius.
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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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I was weeping again, drunk on the impossible past.
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I have never seen a more lucid, more lonely, better balanced mad mind than mine.
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By God, I could make myself bring her that economically halved grapefruit, that sugarless breakfast.
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A writer should have the precision of a poet and the imagination of a scientist.
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Life is short. From here to that old car you know so well there is a stretch of twenty, twenty-five paces. It is a very short walk. Make those twenty-five steps. Now. Right now. Come just as you are. And we shall live happily ever after.
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I adore you, mon petit, and would never allow him to hurt you, no matter how gently or madly.
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I was the shadow of the waxwing slain/By the false azure in the windowpane.
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No difference exists between American and European manners. A proletarian from Chicago can be just as Philistine as an English duke.
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A major writer combines these three - storyteller, teacher, enchanter - but it is the enchanter in him that predominates and makes him a major writer.
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There is only one real number: one. And love, apparently, is the best exponent of this singularity.
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I think she always nursed a small mad hope.
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I am sentimental,’ she said. ‘I could dissect a koala but not its baby. I like the words damozel, eglantine, elegant. I love when you kiss my elongated white hand.
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And what is death, if not a face at peace - its artistic perfection.
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A certain man once lost a diamond cuff-link in the wide blue sea, and twenty years later, on the exact day, a Friday apparently, he was eating a large fish - but there was no diamond inside. That’s what I like about coincidence.
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Don't touch me I'll die if you touch me.
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But in my arms she was always Lolita.
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Most of the dandelions had changed from suns to moons.
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