More Quotes by Vladimir Nabokov
I don't think in any language. I think in images.
I talk in a daze, I walk in a maze I cannot get out, said the starling
Perhaps, somewhere, some day, at a less miserable time, we may see each other again.
Oh, let me be mawkish for the nonce! I am so tired of being cynical.
I shall continue to exist. I may assume other disguises, other forms, but I shall try to exist.
Only one letter divides the comic from the cosmic.
And the rest is rust and stardust.
There is nothing dictators hate so much as that unassailable, eternally elusive, eternally provoking gleam. One of the main reasons why the very gallant Russian poet Gumilev was put to death by Lenin's ruffians thirty odd years ago was that during the whole ordeal, in the prosecutor's dim office, in the torture house, in the winding corridors that led to the truck, in the truck that took him to the place of execution, and at that place itself, full of the shuffling feet of the clumsy and gloomy shooting squad, the poet kept smiling.
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.
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.
