Quotations From VLADIMIR NABOKOV
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Comme un fou se croit Dieu, nous nous croyons mortels. (As a madman believes himself to be God, we believe ourselves to be mortal.)Vladimir Nabokov (1899-1977), Russian-born U.S. novelist, poet. Invitation to a Beheading, epigraph (1959).
There exist few things more tedious than a discussion of general ideas inflicted by author or reader upon a work of fiction.Vladimir Nabokov (1899-1977), Russian-born U.S. novelist, poet. Bend Sinister, foreword (1947).
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Humbert Humbert. What a thrillingly different name.Vladimir Nabokov (1899-1977), Russian. Charlotte Haze (Shelley Winters), Lolita, flirting with Humbert, her tenant (1962).
Isn't it great to have a lovely, tall, pretty, little, small daughter like that? It's really wonderful.Vladimir Nabokov (1899-1977), Russian. Claire Quilty (Peter Sellers), Lolita, pretending to be a police officer and questioning Humbert about Humbert's relationship with Lolita (1962).
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Some peopleand I am one of themhate happy ends. We feel cheated. Harm is the norm. Doom should not jam.Vladimir Nabokov (1899-1977), Russian-born U.S. novelist, poet. Pnin, ch. 1, sect. 3 (1957).
I think it was your cherry pies.Vladimir Nabokov (1899-1977), Russian. Humbert Humbert (James Mason), Lolita, explaining why he decided to room with Charlotte and her daughter, Lolita (1962).
Amidst the dust, and the falling things, and the flapping scenery, Cincinnatus made his way in that direction where, to judge by the voices, stood beings akin to him.Vladimir Nabokov (1899-1977), Russian-born U.S. novelist, poet. Invitation to a Beheading, ch. 20 (1959).
Ah, my dear Madam, ah, "Mr." Serge Solntsev, how easy it is to guess that the author's name is a pseudonym, that the author is not a man! Every sentence of yours buttons to the left.Vladimir Nabokov (1899-1977), Russian-born U.S. novelist, poet. "The Admiralty Spire," Tyrants Destroyed (1975).
Of all my novels this bright brute is the gayest.Vladimir Nabokov (1899-1977), Russian-born U.S. novelist, poet. King, Queen, Knave, foreword (1968).
The train was now going fast. Franz suddenly clutched his side, transfixed by the thought that he had lost his wallet which contained so much.Vladimir Nabokov (1899-1977), Russian-born U.S. novelist, poet. King, Queen, Knave, ch. 1 (1968).
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