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
jobs character writing
The writer's job is to get the main character up a tree, and then once they are up there, throw rocks at them.
art sunset past
The contemplation of beauty, whether it be a uniquely tinted sunset, a radiant face, or a work of art, makes us glance back unwittingly at our personal past and juxtapose ourselves and our inner being with the utterly unattainable beauty revealed to us.
reading book knowing
Knowing you have something good to read before bed is among the most pleasurable of sensations.
light fire soul
Lolita, light of my life, fire of my loins. My sin, my soul. Lo-lee-ta: the tip of the tongue taking a trip of three steps down the palate to tap, at three, on the teeth. Lo. Lee. Ta.
thinking crowds life-is
Let all of life be an unfettered howl. Like the crowd greeting the gladiator. Don't stop to think, don't interrupt the scream, exhale, release life's rapture.
love memories thinking
I think it is all a matter of love: the more you love a memory, the stronger and stranger it is.
inspirational fall rain
Do not be angry with the rain; it simply does not know how to fall upwards.
spiritual sadness sick
Toska - noun /ˈtō-skə/ - Russian word roughly translated as sadness, melancholia, lugubriousness. "No single word in English renders all the shades of toska. At its deepest and most painful, it is a sensation of great spiritual anguish, often without any specific cause. At less morbid levels it is a dull ache of the soul, a longing with nothing to long for, a sick pining, a vague restlessness, mental throes, yearning. In particular cases it may be the desire for somebody of something specific, nostalgia, love-sickness. At the lowest level it grades into ennui, boredom.
stars angel mind
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.
desire world defiance
I have no desires, save the desire to express myself in defiance of all the world’s muteness.
art deceitful complexes
Art at its greatest is fantastically deceitful and complex.
eye color photograph
All colors made me happy: even gray. My eyes were such that literally they Took photographs.
rust stardust
And the rest is rust and stardust.
may miserable
Perhaps, somewhere, some day, at a less miserable time, we may see each other again.