942 Quotes by Vladimir Nabokov

  • Author Vladimir Nabokov
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    In an Anglo-Saxon thriller, the villain is generally punished, and the strong silent man generally wins the weak babbling girl, but there is no governmental law in Western countries to ban a story that does not comply with a fond tradition, so that we always hope that the wicked but romantic fellow will escape scot-free and the good but dull chap will be finally snubbed by the moody heroine.

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  • Author Vladimir Nabokov
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    Precautions to be taken in the caseOf freak reincarnation: what to doOn suddenly discovering that youAre now a young and vulnerable toadPlump in the middle of a busy road,Or a bear cub beneath a burning pine,Or a book mite in a revived divine.

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  • Author Vladimir Nabokov
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    As soon as the pegs were driven in and the game started, the man was transfigured. From his habitual, slow, ponderous, rather rigid self, he changed into a terrifically mobile, scampering, mute, sly-visaged hunchback.

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  • Author Vladimir Nabokov
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    How small the cosmos (a kangaroo's pouch would hold it), how paltry and puny in comparison to human consciousness, to a single individual recollection, and its expression in words!

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  • Author Vladimir Nabokov
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    That human life is but a first installment of the serial soul and that one's individual secret is not lost in the process of earthly dissolution, becomes something more than an optimistic conjecture, and even more than a matter of religious faith, when we remember that only commonsense rules immortality out.

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  • Author Vladimir Nabokov
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    When we remember our former selves, there is always that little figure with its long shadow stopping like an uncertain belated visitor on a lighted threshold at the far end of some impeccably narrowing corridor.

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  • Author Vladimir Nabokov
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    Wspomnienie nie dawało mu spokoju. Można je było wytrzymać przez chwilę i to tylko z perspektywy nieuleczalnej choroby, w wyraźnym przeczuciu nadchodzącej śmierci.

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  • Author Vladimir Nabokov
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    You lose your immortality when you lose your memory. And if you land then on Terra Caelestis, with your pillow and chamberpot, you are made to room not with Shakespeare or even Longfellow, but with guitarists and cretins.

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