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Vladimir Nabokov

"It was something quite special, that feeling: an oppressive, hideous constraint as if I were sitting with the small ghost of somebody I had just killed."

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"It was something quite special, that feeling: an oppressive, hideous constraint as if I were sitting with the small ghost of somebody I had just killed."

Exlpore more Guilt quotes

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Asa Don Brown

"It's a terrible thing, what we did, said Francis abruptly. "I mean, this man was not Voltaire we killed. But still. It's a shame. I feel bad about it."

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Asa Don Brown

"Consider guilt like a street sign that warns of rough roads ahead if you don't make a u-turn."

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Asa Don Brown

"What is guilt? Guilt is the pledge drive constantly hammering in our heads that keeps us from fully enjoying the show. Guilt is the reason they put the articles in Playboy."

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Asa Don Brown

"Guilt is a weird thing to me. I don't have a lot of it."

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Asa Don Brown

"Maybe time would not feel as heavy if I didn't have this guilt - the guilt of knowing the truth and stuffing it down where no one can see it."

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Asa Don Brown

"Feelings of guilt are the worst punishment. You are being punished by yourself."

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Asa Don Brown

"She heard him speak, but did not recognise the problem in his voice " only later did she realise it was that thing he'd been concealing " known as guilt."

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Asa Don Brown

"All this gave way to my first encounter with guilt, which is still something entirely inscrutable to me, as if aliens were sending transmissions from another planet, telling me there is a right and a wrong in the universe."

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Asa Don Brown

"There is no such thing as collective guilt."

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Asa Don Brown

"Repentant tears wash out the stain of guilt."

Explore more quotes by Vladimir Nabokov

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Vladimir Nabokov
"I would like to spare the time and effort of hack reviewers and, generally, persons who move their lips when reading."
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Vladimir Nabokov
"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."
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Vladimir Nabokov
"There is only one school of literature - that of talent."
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Vladimir Nabokov
"Genius is an African who dreams up snow."
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Vladimir Nabokov
"It's a pity one can't imagine what one can't compare to anything. Genius is an African who dreams up snow."
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Vladimir Nabokov
"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."
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Vladimir Nabokov
"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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Vladimir Nabokov
"And perhaps it was precisely because she knew nothing at all about chess that chess for her was not simply a parlor game or a pleasant pastime, but a mysterious art equal to all the recognized arts. She had never been in close contact with such people - there was no one to compare him with except those inspired eccentrics, musicians and poets whose image one knows as clearly and as vaguely as that of a Roman Emperor, an inquisitor or a comedy miser. Her memory contained a modest dimly lit gallery with a sequence of all the people who had in any way caught her fancy."
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Vladimir Nabokov
"Logical reasoning may be a most convenient means of mental communication for covering short distances, but the curvature of the earth, alas, is reflected even in logic: an ideally rational progression of thought will finally bring you back to the point of departure where you return aware of the simplicity of genius, with a delightful sensation that you have embraced truth, while actually you have merely embraced your own self... anything you might term a deduction already exposes the flaw: logical development inexorably becomes an envelopment."
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Vladimir Nabokov
"A sunset, almost formidable in its splendor, would be lingering in the fully exposed sky. Among its imperceptibly changing amassments, one could pick out brightly stained structural details of celestial organisms, or glowing slits in dark banks, or flat, ethereal beaches that looked like mirages of desert islands. I did not know then (as I know perfectly well now) what to do with such things-how to get rid of them, how to transform them into something that can be turned over to the reader in printed characters to have him cope with the blessed shiver-and this inability enhanced my oppression."
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