#Quote
More Quotes by Vladimir Nabokov
Genius is an African who dreams up snow.
The only real number is one, the rest are mere repetition
I think it is all a matter of love: the more you love a memory, the stronger and stranger it is.
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.
Only one letter divides the comic from the cosmic.
Let all of life be an unfettered howl.
Words without experience are meaningless.
Why should I tolerate a perfect stranger at the bedside of my mind?
Do not be angry with the rain; it simply does not know how to fall upwards.
Which arrow flies for ever? The arrow that has hit its mark.
