Quote

There was a time in my demented youth When somehow I suspected that the truth About survival after death was known To every human being: I alone Knew nothing, and a great conspiracy Of books and people hid the truth from me.

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
Book
Knew
Nothing
Alone
Great
Books
Demented
Every
Known
Suspected
Time
Death
Conspiracy
People
Truth
Somehow
Human
Survival
Humans
Youth

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Most of the dandelions had changed from suns to moons.
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Nothing is more exhilarating than philistine vulgarity.
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Mnemosyne, one must admit, has shown herself to be a very careless girl.
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For I do not exist: there exist but the thousands of mirrors that reflect me.
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There is no science without fancy and no art without fact.
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You can always count on a murderer for a fancy prose style.
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I mean, I have the feeling that something in my mind is poisoning everything else.
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And she was mine, she was mine, the key was in my fist, my fist was in my pocket, she was mine.
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All my stories are webs of style and none seems at first blush to contain much kinetic matter.
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The square root of I is I.
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Let all of life be an unfettered howl.
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Resemblances are the shadows of differences. Different people see different similarities and similar differences.
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We loved each other with a premature love, marked by a fierceness that so often destroys adult lives.
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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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Play! Invent the world! Invent reality!
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Humbert was perfectly capable of intercourse with Eve, but it was Lilith he longed for.
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in a sense, all poetry is positional: to try to express one's position in regard to the universe embraced by consciousness, is an immemorial urge. The arms of consciousness reach out and grope, and the longer they are the better. Tentacles, not wings, are Apollo's natural members.
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The spiral is a spiritualized circle. In the spiral form, the circle, uncoiled, has ceased to be vicious it has been set free.
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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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