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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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Amber Hurdle

"The Wrong we have Done, Thought, or Intended Will wreak its Vengeance onOur SOULS."

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Amber Hurdle

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

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Amber Hurdle

"This feeling of guilt is your conscience calling your attention to the higher road, and your heart wishing you had taken it."

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Amber Hurdle

"Canon law itself says for one case of guilt, a priest can be dismissed from the clerical state. One."

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Amber Hurdle

"Perhaps it was as well that she had been unconscious for four weeks. She had missed the aftermath, the SO-1 reports, the recriminations, Snood and Tamworth's funerals. She missed everything...except the blame. It was waiting for her when she awoke..."

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Amber Hurdle

"I nod, because I do understand. I'm just not sure how to go about divorcing myself from the evil I've already accepted."

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Amber Hurdle

"Hard though it may be to accept, remember that guilt is sometimes a friendly internal voice reminding you that you're messing up."

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Amber Hurdle

"There is no such thing as collective guilt."

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Amber Hurdle

"Vultures pick the meat clean off a bone. Guilt eats at the marrow, leaving a man hollow."

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Amber Hurdle

"Repentant tears wash out the stain of guilt."

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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