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I talk in a daze, I walk in a maze I cannot get out, said the starling

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
Talk
Cannot
Starling
Starlings
Daze
Maze
Mazes
Walk
Walks

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All great novels are great fairy tales.
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My own ultraviolet darling. Lolita
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A writer should have the precision of a poet and the imagination of a scientist.
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Oh, let me be mawkish for the nonce! I am so tired of being cynical.
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Long after her death I felt her thoughts floating through mine. Long before we met we had had the same dreams. We compared notes. We found strange affinities. The same June of the same year (1919) a stray canary had fluttered into her house and mine, in two widely separated countries. Oh, Lolita, had you love me thus!
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All my life I have been a poor go-to-sleeper. No matter how great my weariness, the wrench of parting with consciousness is unspeakably repulsive to me.
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What surprises you in life? The marvel of consciousness -- that sudden window swinging open on a sunlit landscape amidts the night of non-being.
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The clumsiest literal translation is a thousand times more useful than the prettiest paraphrase.
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In reading, one should notice and fondle details.
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I have no desires, save the desire to express myself in defiance of all the world’s muteness.
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Which arrow flies for ever? The arrow that has hit its mark.
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Solitude was corrupting me.
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My little cup brims with tiddles.
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For I do not exist: there exist but the thousands of mirrors that reflect me.
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Revelation can be more perilous than Revolution.
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...for the human brain can become the best torture house of all those it has invented, established and used in a millions of years, in millions of lands, on millions of howling creatures.
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Another tormentor inquired if it was true that I had installed two ping-pong tables in my basement. I asked, was it a crime? No, he said, but why two? Is that a crime? I countered, and they all laughed.
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Just like a man grieving because he has recently lost in his dreams some thing that he had never had in reality, or hoping that tomorrow he would dream that he found it again. That is how mathematics is created it has its fatal flaw.
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Neither in environment nor in heredity can I find the exact instrument that fashioned me, the a.non.y.muse roller that passed upon my life a certain intricate watermark whose unique design becomes visible when the lamp of art is made to shine through life's foolscap.
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Imagine me I shall not exist if you do not imagine me try to discern the doe in me, trembling in the forest of my own iniquity let's even smile a little. After all, there is no harm in smiling.
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