The world itself is but a series of footnotes to a vast unfinished masterpiece. – Vladimir Nabokov
The cradle rocks above an abyss, and common sense tells us that our existence is but a brief crack of light between two eternities of darkness. – Vladimir Nabokov
It is hard, I submit, to loathe bloodshed, including war, more than I do, but it is still harder to exceed my loathing of the very nature of totalitarian states in which massacre is only an administrative detail. – Vladimir Nabokov
A novelist is, like all mortals, more fully at home on the surface of the present than in the ooze of the past. – Vladimir Nabokov