Vladimir Nabokov
Vladimir Nabokov
Vladimir Vladimirovich Nabokov, also known by the pen name Vladimir Sirin; 22 April 1899c – 2 July 1977) was a Russian-American novelist. His first nine novels were in Russian, and he achieved international prominence after he began writing English prose...
NationalityAmerican
ProfessionNovelist
Date of Birth23 April 1899
CitySaint Petersburg, Russia
CountryUnited States of America
love valentines-day sight
It was love at first sight, at last sight, at ever and ever sight.
jesus dear
Dear Jesus, do something.
crazy thinking occupation
And yet I adore him. I think he's quite crazy, and with no place or occupation in life, and far from happy, and philosophically irresponsible – and there is absolutely nobody like him.
truth children eye
Alas! In vain historians pry and probe: The same wind blows, and in the same live robe Truth bends her head to fingers curved cupwise; And with a woman's smile and a child's care Examines something she is holding there Concealed by her own shoulder from our eyes.
teacher school squares
There are teachers and students with square minds who are by nature meant to undergo the fascination of catagories. For them, 'schools' and 'movements' are everything; by painting a group symbol on the brow of mediocrity, they condone their own incomprehension of true genius.
meaningless
Words without experience are meaningless.
caged
We are most artistically caged.
monsters i-loved-you brutal
I loved you. I was a pentapod monster, but I loved you. I was despicable and brutal, and turpid, and everything, mais je t’aimais, je t’aimais!
mystery reason irrational
Poetry involves the mysteries of the irrational perceived through rational words.
evolution nonsense nonsensical
The evolution of sense is, in a sense, the evolution of nonsense.
knowledge expression littles
I know more than I can express in words, and the little I can express would not have been expressed, had I not known more.
dream dust alive
...in my dreams the world would come alive, becoming so captivatingly majestic, free and ethereal, that afterwards it would be oppressive to breathe the dust of this painted life.
letters comic cosmic
Only one letter divides the comic from the cosmic.
memories sunset heart
I should allow only my heart to have imagination; and for the rest rely on memory, that long drawn sunset of one's personal truth.