Tags » Nabokov

Vladimir Nabokov, in a letter to his wife Vera

‘You came into my life, not as one who comes to visit, but as one comes into a kingdom where all the rivers have been waiting for your reflection, all the roads for your steps.’


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.

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They got the work done, with style.

“What did Nabokov and Joyce have in common, apart from the poor teeth and the great prose? Exile, and decades of near pauperism. A compulsive tendency to overtip. 50 more words


"A rooster's cry, jagged and gaudy ..."

In the process of rearranging the Byron family library, I came across the above quotation that I had marked with slip of paper when last reading… 72 more words


The World as we know it.

Pen, ink and watercolour rendering of a dream. I was a fly on a trench wall where M. Lowry was boozing, L.F. Céline and F. Dostoevsky were playing cards watched by V. 79 more words

Dick Holzhaus

“What the fuck?”

A predominant thought of mine during my entire reading of The Bell Jar, I truly was confused/anxious/every other uncomfortable word in the dictionary/thesaurus. Although extremely beautiful in its writing style, this book fucked me up. 107 more words

The Bell Jar


Writing can bring strange connections. You tell your story in the most entertaining way you can and someone points out connections you never thought about. I have always admired the great Russian writer, Vladimir Nabokov, not least because he was able to speak and write equally comfortably in Russian (his native language), English and French. 827 more words