Life Is A State Of Mind.

[nabokov's] Language Is Made Visible . . . Like A Veil Or Transparent Curtain. You Cannot Help Seeing The Curtain As You Peek Into The Intimate Rooms Behind.

Physical Comfort Has Nothing To Do With Any Other Comfort.

I Look Back Into Past History, The Stored Experiences Or Products Of The Imagination. I Look No Further Forward Than The Evening.

I Don't Fret Over Lost Time - I Can Always Use The Situations In A Novel.

Gatherings And, Simultaneously, Loneliness Are The Conditions Of A Writer's Life.