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Vladimir Nabokov

"The fame of his likes circulates briskly but soon grows heavy and stale, and as for history it will limit his life story to the dash between two dates."

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"The fame of his likes circulates briskly but soon grows heavy and stale, and as for history it will limit his life story to the dash between two dates."

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Amber Hurdle

"If you really want to buy greatness with time, you must invest the quality amount of time into your purpose and land of calling. The more time you invest into your land of promise, the more productive the land becomes for you."

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Amber Hurdle

"Don't just be making a living, make a life and leave an indelible footstep wherever you step."

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Amber Hurdle

"Without solitude, we cannot fix the scattered pieces of our plans, hopes, wishes together."

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Amber Hurdle

"The more time you invest into your land of promise, the more productive the land becomes for you."

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Amber Hurdle

"Every one's footprint is a landmark in the world history."

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Amber Hurdle

"There is no one who was supposed to come to this world and leave empty."

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Amber Hurdle

"The establishment of the kingdom of God is forever."

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Amber Hurdle

"Don't carry your ideas to the grave untouched."

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Amber Hurdle

"The secret of all greatness is to not allow time diminish without converting it into a product of greatness."

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Amber Hurdle

"wealth and greatness are not destined for the grave."

Explore more quotes by Vladimir Nabokov

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Vladimir Nabokov
"Nothing revives the past so completely as a smell that was once associated with it."
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Vladimir Nabokov
"I clearly understand, first, that the real human being is a poet and, second, that [the tyrant] is the incarnate negation of a poet."
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Vladimir Nabokov
"The kind of poem I produced in those days was hardly anything more than a sign I made of being alive, of passing or having passed, or hoping to pass, through certain intense human emotions. It was a phenomenon of orientation rather than of art, thus comparable to stripes of paint on a roadside rock or to a pillared heap of stones marking a mountain trail. But then, in a sense, all poetry is positional: to try to express one's position in regard to the universe embraced by consciousness, is an immemorial urge. Tentacles, not wings, are Apollo's natural members. Vivian Bloodmark, a philosophical friend of mine, in later years, used to say that while the scientist sees everything that happens in one point of space, the poet feels everything that happens in one point of time."
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Vladimir Nabokov
"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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Vladimir Nabokov
"It is interesting to ponder the fact that there is no real difference between what the Western Fascists wanted of literature and what the Bolsheviks want. Let me quote: "The personality of the artist should develop freely and without restraint. One thing, however, we demand: acknowledgement of our creed. Thus spoke one of the big Nazis, Dr. Rosenberg, Minister of Culture in Hitler's Germany. Another quote: "Every artist has the right to create freely; but we, Communists, must guide him according to plan. Thus spoke Lenin. Both of these are textual quotations, and their similitude would have been highly diverting had not the whole thing been so very sad."
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Vladimir Nabokov
"The idea of God was invented in the small hours of history by a scam who had genius; it somehow reeks too much of humanity, that idea, to make its azure origin plausible..."
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Vladimir Nabokov
"And I thought to myself how those fast little articles forget everything, everything, while we, old lovers, treasure every inch of their nymphancy."
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Vladimir Nabokov
"But as Van casually directed the searchlight of backthought into that maze of the past where the mirror-lined narrow paths not only took different turns, but used different levels (as a mule-drawn cart passes under the arch of a viaduct along which a motor skims by), he found himself tackling, in still vague and idle fashion, the science that was to obsess his mature years - problems of space and time, space versus time, time-twisted space, space as time, time as space - and space breaking away from time, in the final tragic triumph of human cogitation: I am because I die."
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Vladimir Nabokov
"Cannot it actually be that in a wildly literal sense, unacceptable to one's reason, he meant disappearing in his art, dissolving in his verse, thus leaving of himself, of his nebulous person, nothing but verse?"
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Vladimir Nabokov
"Dear Jesus, do something."
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