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Vladimir Nabokov

"I confess I do not believe in time. I like to fold my magic carpet, after use, in such a way as to superimpose one part of the pattern upon another. Let visitors trip. And the highest enjoyment of timelessness-in a landscape selected at random-is when I stand among rare butterflies and their food plants. This is ecstasy, and behind the ecstasy is something else, which is hard to explain. It is like a momentary vacuum into which rushes all that I love. A sense of oneness with sun and stone. A thrill of gratitude to whom it may concern-to the contrapuntal genius of human fate or to tender ghosts humoring a lucky mortal."

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"I confess I do not believe in time. I like to fold my magic carpet, after use, in such a way as to superimpose one part of the pattern upon another. Let visitors trip. And the highest enjoyment of timelessness-in a landscape selected at random-is when I stand among rare butterflies and their food plants. This is ecstasy, and behind the ecstasy is something else, which is hard to explain. It is like a momentary vacuum into which rushes all that I love. A sense of oneness with sun and stone. A thrill of gratitude to whom it may concern-to the contrapuntal genius of human fate or to tender ghosts humoring a lucky mortal."

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"The field of the soul must be watered by the rain with tears of love, otherwise it will become a desert."

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"Tears,love,life Who knows how many tears have flown in the Word of God from the creation of the world?"

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"The soul is a prolonged anniversary of our lives in this world."

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"The person healed has an obligation to then ask why- to meditate on God's will, and the extraordinary lengths to which God has gone to realize His will."

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"Faithfulness to God requires your obedience, even when it's difficult."

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"First of all, no messiahs are sent. Secondly, no messiah got it. Lastly, no messiah is. And if there ever was or is, maybe I too am it. As too is every dimwit."

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"The Only God 'up there' is Unity of Everything, in Quintessence. Other fancies, gods and fairies are the nansy-pansies of simpletons, or is just plain-simple nonsense."

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"That eye which sees anything good in the creature is a blind eye; that eye which fancies it can discern anything in man, or anything in anything he can do to win the Divine favor, is as yet stone blind to the Truth of God, and needs to be lanced and cut, and the cataract of pride removed from it!"

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"From his cradle to the grave a man never does a single thing which has any first and foremost object save one-to secure peace of mind spiritual comfort for himself."

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Vladimir Nabokov
"Treading the soil of the moon, palpating its pebbles, tasting the panic and splendor of the event, feeling in the pit of one's stomach the separation from terra... these form the most romantic sensation an explorer has ever known..."
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Vladimir Nabokov
"Every author believes, when his first book is published, that those that acclaim it are his personal friends or impersonal peers, while its revilers can only be envious rogues and nonentities."
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Vladimir Nabokov
"At eight, he had once told his mother that he wanted to paint air."
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Vladimir Nabokov
"The more you love a memory, the stronger and stranger it is."
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Vladimir Nabokov
"When we remember our former selves, there is always that little figure with its long shadow stopping like an uncertain belated visitor on a lighted threshold at the far end of some impeccably narrowing corridor."
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Vladimir Nabokov
"Do all people have that? A face, a phrase, a landscape, an air bubble from the past suddenly floating up as if released by the head warden's child from a cell in the brain while the mind is at work on some totally different matter? Something of the sort also occurs just before falling asleep when what you think you are thinking is not at all what you think. Or two parallel passenger trains of thought, one overtaking the other."
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Vladimir Nabokov
"As Ganin looked up at the skeletal roof in the ethereal sky he realized with merciless clarity that his affair with Mary was ended forever. It had lasted no more than four days-four days which were perhaps the happiest days of his life. But now he had exhausted his memories, was sated by them, and the image of Mary, together with that of the old dying poet, now remained in the house of ghosts, which itself was already a memory."
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Vladimir Nabokov
"I had possessed her - and she never knew it."
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Vladimir Nabokov
"Poetry involves the mysteries of the irrational perceived through rational words."
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Vladimir Nabokov
"Some people, and I am one of them, hate happy ends. We feel cheated. Harm is the norm."
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