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Genius still means to me, in my Russian fastidiousness and pride of phrase, a unique dazzling gift. The gift of James Joyce, and not the talent of Henry James.
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
Phrases
Still
Gift
Fastidiousness
Mean
Unique
Joyce
Pride
Dazzling
Genius
Henry
Phrase
Talent
Russian
Means
James
Stills
More quotes by Vladimir Nabokov
...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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I was also supposed to quiz my various companions on a number of important matters such as nostalgia, fear of unknown animals, food fantasies, nocturnal emissions, hobbies, choice of radio program, changes in out look and so forth.
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The breaking of a wave cannot explain the whole sea.
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In and out of my heart flowed my rainbow blood.
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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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A toothache will cost a battle, a drizzle cancel an insurrection.
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All the information I have about myself is from forged documents.
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Let all of life be an unfettered howl.
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The pleasures of writing correspond exactly to the pleasures of reading
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Existence is a series of footnotes to a vast, obscure, unfinished masterpiece.
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Humbert was perfectly capable of intercourse with Eve, but it was Lilith he longed for.
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Don't touch me I'll die if you touch me.
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There is no science without fancy and no art without fact.
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...All my best words are deserters and do not answer the trumpet call, and the remainder are cripples.
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Beauty plus pity-that is the closest we can get to a definition of art. Where there is beauty there is pity for the simple reason that beauty must die: beauty always dies, the manner dies with the matter, the world dies with the individual.
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We live not only in a world of thoughts, but also in a world of things. Words without experience are meaningless.
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It was love at first sight, at last sight, at ever and ever sight.
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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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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.
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It is a short walk from the hallelujah to the hoot.
Vladimir Nabokov
