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Mind you, sometimes the angels smoke, hiding it with their sleeves, and when the archangel comes, they throw the cigarettes away: that’s when you get shooting stars.
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
Angel
Cigarettes
Stars
Sleeves
Comes
Cigarette
Away
Hiding
Sometimes
Angels
Mind
Shooting
Smoke
Throw
Archangel
More quotes by Vladimir Nabokov
Measure me while I live - after it will be too late.
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Oh, let me be mawkish for the nonce! I am so tired of being cynical.
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Time is rhythm: the insect rhythm of a warm humid night, brain ripple, breathing, the drum in my temple—these are our faithful timekeepers and reason corrects the feverish beat.
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A work of art has no importance whatever to society. It is only important to the individual.
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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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The cradle rocks above an abyss, and common sense tells us that our existence is but a brief crack of light between two eternities of darkness.
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His wings were failing, but he refused to fall without a struggle.
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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.
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Dostoevky's lack of taste, his monotonous dealings with persons suffering with pre-Freudian complexes, the way he has of wallowing in the tragic misadventures of human dignity - all this is difficult to admire.
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Curiosity is insubordination in its purest form.
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A cluster of stars palely glowed above us, between the silhouettes of long thin leaves that vibrant sky seemed as naked as she was under her light frock. I saw her face in the sky, strangely distinct, as if it emitted a faint radiance of its own.
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I mean, I have the feeling that something in my mind is poisoning everything else.
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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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A masterpiece of fiction is an original world and as such is not likely to fit the world of the reader.
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Do not be awed by giant predecessors. Be ill-tempered with their renown. Point out flaws. Frighten interviewers from Time. Appear in Playboy. Sell to the movies.
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The lost glove is happy.
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Only one letter divides the comic from the cosmic.
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Those Eggheadsareterrible Philistines. A realgood head is not oval but round.
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There are some varieties of fiction that I never touch - mystery stories, for instance, which I abhor, and historical novels. I also detest the so-called powerful novel - full of commonplace obscenities and torrents of dialog.
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Don't touch me I'll die if you touch me.
Vladimir Nabokov