NABOKV-L post 0021662, Wed, 1 Jun 2011 00:14:16 -0400

Nabokov quotes ...
Themes by Rawmoans

Tumblr has a depressing lack of diversity in Nabokov quotes. We aim to help.

"A certain man once lost a diamond cuff-link in the wide blue sea, and twenty years later, on the exact day, a Friday apparently, he was eating a large fish - but there was no diamond inside. That’s what I like about coincidence."
— [Laughter in the Dark]
"The thought, when written down, becomes less oppressive, but some thoughts are like a cancerous tumor: you express it, you excise it, and it grows back worse than before."
— [Invitation to a Beheading]
"The sun is a thief: she lures the sea
and robs it. The moon is a thief:
he steals his silvery light from the sun.
The sea is a thief: it dissolves the moon"
— [Pale Fire]
"No Leslie, I’m not dead. I have finished building a world, and this is my Sabbath rest"
— [The Real Life of Sebastian Knight]
"To her he would surrender the remnants of his self at the first trumpet blast of destiny."
— [Ada or Ardor: A Family Chronicle]
"There was always something colorfully impressionistic, but also infantile, about Ada’s allusions to her affairs of the flesh, reminding one of baffle painting, or little glass labyrinths with two peas, or the Ardis throwing trap — you remember? — which tossed up clay pigeons and pine cones to be shot at, or cockamaroo (Russian “biks”), played with a toy cue on the billiard cloth of an oblong board with holes and hoop, bells and pins among which the ping-pong-sized eburnean ball zigzagged with bix-pix concussions."
— [Ada or Ardor: A Family Chronicle]
"There is only one real number: one. And love, apparently, is the best exponent of this singularity"
— [The Real Life of Sebastian Knight]
"What are dreams? A random sequence of scenes, trivial or tragic, viatic or static, fantastic or familiar, featuring more or less plausible events patched up with grotesque details, and recasting dead people in new settings."
— [Ada or Ardor: A Family Chronicle]
"Last night, I tried to make a poem about it for you, but I can’t write verse; it begins, it only begins: Ada, our ardors and arbors — but the rest is all fog, try to fancy the rest."
— [Ada or Ardor: A Family Chronicle]
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