Nabokovian

"When I try to analyze my own cravings, motives, actions and so forth, I surrender to a sort of retrospective imagination which feeds the analytic faculty with boundless alternatives and which causes each vizualized route to fork and re-fork without end in the maddeningly complex prospect of my past."

"Yet, if prior to life we had been able to imagine life, what mad, impossible, unutterably weird, wonderful nonsense it might have appeared."

"A remembered spread of colored sand bore the thirty-year-old patterned imprint of Oleg's shoe, as immortal as the tracks of an Egyptian child's tame gazelle made thirty centuries ago on blue Nilotic bricks drying in the sun."

"And what is death, if not a face at peace - its artistic perfection?"


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