More Quotes by Vladimir Nabokov
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.
I don't think in any language. I think in images.
Curiosity is insubordination in its purest form.
Do not be angry with the rain; it simply does not know how to fall upwards.
We think not in words but in shadows of words.
Resemblances are the shadows of differences. Different people see different similarities and similar differences.
And the rest is rust and stardust.
Play! Invent the world! Invent reality!
Why should I tolerate a perfect stranger at the bedside of my mind?
For I do not exist: there exist but the thousands of mirrors that reflect me.
