More Quotes by Vladimir Nabokov
Literature, real literature, must not be gulped down like some potion which may be good for the heart or good for the brain—the brain, that stomach of the soul. Literature must be taken and broken to bits, pulled apart, squashed—then its lovely reek will be smelt in the hollow of the palm, it will be munched and rolled upon the tongue with relish; then, and only then, its rare flavor will be appreciated at its true worth and the broken and crushed parts will again come together in your mind and disclose the beauty of a unity to which you have contributed something of your own blood.
Genius is finding the invisible link between things.
Only one letter divides the comic from the cosmic.
My mind speaks English, my heart speaks Russian, and my ear prefers French.
And the rest is rust and stardust.
Curiosity is insubordination in its purest form.
Why should I tolerate a perfect stranger at the bedside of my mind?
I think it is all a matter of love: the more you love a memory, the stronger and stranger it is.
Which arrow flies for ever? The arrow that has hit its mark.
Nostalgia in reverse, the longing for yet another strange land, grew especially strong in spring.
