I feel I understand Existence, or at least a minute part Of my existence, only through my art, In terms of combinational delight; And if my private universe scans right, So does the verse of galaxies divine Which I suspect is an iambic line. —Vladimir Nabokov, from “Canto Four,” Pale Fire: A Poem in Four… Continue reading Vladimir Nabokov
Let all of life be an unfettered howl. Like the crowd greeting the gladiator. Don’t stop to think, don’t interrupt the scream, exhale, release life’s rapture. — Vladimir Nabokov
I simply love that tinge of Botticellian pink, that raw rose about the lips, those wet, matted eyelashes… — Vladimir Nabokov, Lolita. (Olympia Press 1955)
…nostalgia in reverse, the longing for yet another strange land, grew especially strong in spring. — Vladimir Nabokov, Mary. (Vintage; Reissue edition, November 20, 1989) Originally published 1926.
I think she always nursed a small mad hope. — Vladimir Nabokov, Pale Fire. (Penguin Books, May 1, 2010) Originally published 1962.
I am thinking of aurochs and angels, the secret of durable pigments, prophetic sonnets, the refuge of art. And this is the only immortality you and I may share, my Lolita. —Vladimir Nabokov, Lolita. (Olympia Press 1955)
In those years, that marvelous mess of constellations, nebulae, interstellar gaps and all the rest of the awesome show provoked in me an indescribable sense of nausea, of utter panic, as if I were hanging from earth upside down on the brink of infinite space, with terrestrial gravity still holding me by the heels but… Continue reading Vladimir Nabokov