#lolita

I'm thinking of aurochs and angels, the secret of durable pigments, prophetic sonnets, the refuge of art, And this is the only immortality that you and I may share, my Lolita. ↗

— Vladimir Nabokov

#art

Las aptitudes artísticas no son caracteres sexuales secundarios, como han dicho ciertos charlatanes y chamanes, sino todo lo contrario: la sexualidad está al servicio del arte. ↗

— Vladimir Nabokov

#art

I loved you. I was a pentapod monster, but I loved you. I was despicable and brutal, and turpid, and everything, mais je t’aimais, je t’aimais! And there were times when I knew how you felt, and it was hell to know it, my little one. Lolita girl, brave Dolly Schiller. ↗

— Vladimir Nabokov

#love

There are two kinds of visual memory: one when you skillfully recreate an image in the laboratory of your mind, with your eyes open (and then I see Annabel in such general terms as: "honey-colored skin," "thin arms," "brown bobbed hair," "long lashes," "big bright mouth"); and the other when you instantly evoke, with shut eyes, on the dark innerside of your eyelids, the objective, absolutely optical replica of a beloved face, a little ghost in natural colors (and this is how I see Lolita). ↗

— Vladimir Nabokov

#nature

Él me destrozó el corazón. Tú destrozaste mi vida. ↗

— Vladimir Nabokov

#vida