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Remembrance, like Rembrandt, is dark but festive. Remembered ones dress up for the occasion and sit still. Memory is a photo-studio de luxe on an infinite Fifth Power Avenue.
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
Avenue
Dark
Studios
Photo
Stills
Dress
Avenues
Power
Remembered
Still
Dresses
Remembrance
Like
Memory
Occasion
Infinite
Fifth
Rembrandt
Ones
Studio
Festive
Memories
Occasions
More quotes by Vladimir Nabokov
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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In and out of my heart flowed my rainbow blood.
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Who can say what heartbreaks are caused in a dog by our discontinuing a romp?
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I shall be dumped where the weed decays, And the rest is rust and stardust
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Old birds like Orlovius are wonderfully easy to lead by the beak, because a combination of decency and sentimentality is exactly equal to being a fool.
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Satire is a lesson, parody is a game.
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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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Solitude is the playfield of Satan.
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Revelation can be more perilous than Revolution.
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My little cup brims with tiddles.
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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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Nymphets do not occur in polar regions.
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I think she always nursed a small mad hope.
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A novelist is, like all mortals, more fully at home on the surface of the present than in the ooze of the past.
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To begin with, let us take the following motto...Literature is Love. Now we can continue.
Vladimir Nabokov
Treading the soil of the moon, palpating its pebbles, tasting the panic and splendor of the event, feeling in the pit of one's stomach the separation from Terra-these form the most romantic sensation an explorer has ever known . . . this is the only thing I can say about the matter. The utilitarian results do not interest me.
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And I want to rise up, throw my arms open for a vast embrace, address an ample, luminous discourse to the invisible crowds. I would start like this: O rainbow-colored gods. . .
Vladimir Nabokov
As far as I can recall, the initial shiver of inspiration [for Lolita] was somehow prompted by a newspaper story about an ape in the Jardin des Plantes, who, after months of coaxing by a scientist, produced the first drawing ever charcoaled by an animal: this sketch showed the bars of the poor creature's cage.
Vladimir Nabokov
The breaking of a wave cannot explain the whole sea.
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The nostalgia I have been cherishing all these years is a hypertrophied sense of lost childhood, not sorrow for lost banknotes.
Vladimir Nabokov