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"IphWas a larvorium and a violet:A grave in Reason's early spring. And yetIt missed the gist of the whole thing; it missedWhat mostly interests the preterist;For we die every day; oblivion thrivesNot on dry thighbones but on blood-ripe lives,And our best yesterdays are now foul pilesOf crumpled names, phone numbers and foxed files.I'm ready to become a floweretOr a fat fly, but never, to forget."
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Exlpore more Mortality quotes
"The fact that you have just buried your parent or parents and/or sibling or siblings does not make you less likely to die today."
"Silver's sweet and gold's our mother, but once you're dead they're worth less than that last shit you take as you lie dying."
"I think Bonzo died. I dreamed about it last night. I remembered the way he looked after I jammed his face with my head. I think I must have pushed his nose back into his brain. The blood was coming out of his eyes. I think he was dead right then."
"The one with karma is known as mortal (jiva) and the one without karma is known as Soul (Self, immortal)."
"Let your only graduation be in the grave."
Explore more quotes by Vladimir Nabokov
"I would like to spare the time and effort of hack reviewers and, generally, persons who move their lips when reading."
"A novelist is, like all mortals, more fully at home on the surface of the present than in the ooze of the past."
"Aunt Rosa, a fussy, angular, wild-eyed old lady, who had lived in a tremulous world of bad news, bankruptcies, train accidents, cancerous growths-until the Germans put her to death, together with all the people she had worried about."
"It's a pity one can't imagine what one can't compare to anything. Genius is an African who dreams up snow."
"My darling, what a cat they have! Something perfectly stupendous. Siamese, in colour dark beige, or taupe, with chocolate paws and the tail the same. Moreover, his tail is comparatively short, so his croup has something of a little dog, or rather, a kangaroo, and that's its colour, too. And that special silkiness of short fur, and some very tender white tints on its folds, and wonderful clear-blue eyes, turning transparently green towards evening, and a pensive tenderness of its walk, a sort of heavenly circumspection of movement. An amazing, sacred animal, and so quiet " it's unclear what he is looking at with those eyes filled to the brim with sapphire water."
"On such sunny, sad mornings I always feel in my bones that there is a chance yet of my not being excluded from Heaven, and that salvation may be granted to me despite the frozen mud and horror in my heart."
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