Vladimir Nabokov idézet

oldal 5

“Solitude is the playfield of Satan.”

“Why did I hope we would be happy abroad? A change of environment is that traditional fallacy upon which doomed loves, and lungs, rely.”

“Most of the dandelions had changed from suns into moons.”

“You lose your immortality when you lose your memory.”

“Occasionally, in the middle of a conversation her name would be mentioned, and she would run down the steps of a chance sentence, without turning her head.”

“I see again my schoolroom in Vyra, the blue roses of the wallpaper, the open window.… Everything is as it should be, nothing will ever change, nobody will ever die.”

“Satire is a lesson, parody is a game.”

“Maybe the only thing that hints at a sense of Time is rhythm; not the recurrent beats of the rhythm but the gap between two such beats, the gray gap between black beats: the Tender Interval.”

“There was no Lo to behold.”

“I looked and looked at her, and knew as clearly as I know I am to die, that I loved her more than anything I had ever seen or imagined on earth, or hoped for anywhere else.”

“Oh, let me be mawkish for the nonce! I am so tired of being cynical.”

“Imagine me; I shall not exist if you do not imagine me.”

“the evolution of sense, in a sense, is the evolution of non sense”

“I am probably responsible for the odd fact that people don't seem to name their daughters Lolita any more. I have heard of young female poodles being given that name since 1956, but of no human beings.”

“I cannot disobey something which I do not know and the reality of which I have the right to deny.”

“Reality is neither the subject nor the object of true art which creates its own special reality having nothing to do with the average "reality" perceived by the communal eye.”

“Thus, in pornographic novels, action has to be limited to the copulation of clichés.”

“I am sentimental,’ she said. ‘I could dissect a koala but not its baby. I like the words damozel, eglantine, elegant. I love when you kiss my elongated white hand.”

“a person hoping to become a poet must have the capacity of thinking of several things at a time.”

“The thought, when written down, becomes less oppressive, but some thoughts are like a cancerous tumor: you express is, you excise it, and it grows back worse than before.”

“I have rewritten — often several times — every word I have ever published. My pencils outlast their erasers.”

“I cannot conceive how anybody in his right mind should go to a psychoanalyst.”

“I would like to spare the time and effort of hack reviewers and, generally, persons who move their lips when reading.”

“… memory can restore to life everything except smells, although nothing revives the past so completely as a smell that was once associated with it.”

“I was the shadow of the waxwing slain
By the false azure in the windowpane;
I was the smudge of ashen fluff -and I
Lived on, flew on, in the reflected sky.”

“If I correctly understand the sense of this succinct observation, our poet suggests here that human life is but a series of footnotes to a vast obscure unfinished masterpiece.”

“His wings were failing, but he refused to fall without a struggle.”

“There is only one real number: one. And love, apparently, is the best exponent of this singularity.”

“for better or worse, it is the commentator who has the last word.”