More Quotes by Vladimir Nabokov
Our imagination flies -- we are its shadow on the earth.
I don't think in any language. I think in images.
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.
I talk in a daze, I walk in a maze I cannot get out, said the starling
Play! Invent the world! Invent reality!
Life is a message scribbled in the dark.
For I do not exist: there exist but the thousands of mirrors that reflect me. With every acquaintance I make, the population of phantoms resembling me increases. Somewhere they live, somewhere they multiply. I alone do not exist.
Curiosity is insubordination in its purest form.
For I do not exist: there exist but the thousands of mirrors that reflect me.
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.
