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I was the shadow of the waxwing slain/By the false azure in the windowpane.

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
Slain
False
Shadow
Windowpane
Azure

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Suddenly for no earthly reason I felt immensely sorry for him and longed to say something real, something with wings and a heart, but the birds I wanted settled on my shoulders and head only later when I was alone and not in need of words.
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Don't cry, I'm sorry to have deceived you so much, but that's how life is.
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Play! Invent the world! Invent reality!
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The tiny madman in his padded cell.
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…She was, obviously, one of those women whose polished words may reflect a book club or bridge club, or any other deadly conventionality, but never her soul.
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The square root of I is I.
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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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My mind speaks English, my heart speaks Russian, and my ear prefers French.
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