My only grudge against nature was that I could not turn my Lolita inside out and apply voracious lips to her young matrix, her unknown heart, her nacreous liver, the sea-grapes of her lungs, her comely twin kidneys.
Vladimir NabokovRead
Don't cry, I'm sorry to have deceived you so much, but that's how life is.
Interpretation
What this quote means
This quote reflects on the inevitability of life's disappointments and the complexities of truth in human relationships.
In this quote, Vladimir Nabokov expresses a sense of resignation to the deceptive nature of life. It suggests that misunderstandings and deceptions are inherent to the human experience, and even though it may cause pain, it is a fundamental aspect of our existence. The speaker apologizes, indicating awareness of the emotional impact of their actions while simultaneously acknowledging that life is often filled with challenges that lead to such situations.
Themes
LifeDeceptionTruthRelationshipPain
In practice
Example use cases
This quote can be used in a discussion about the complexities of relationships during a therapy session.
More from Vladimir Nabokov
All quotes βLolita, light of my life, fire of my loins. My sin, my soul. Lo-lee-ta: the tip of the tongue taking a trip of three steps down the palate to tap, at three, on the teeth. Lo. Lee. Ta.
Vladimir NabokovRead
A change of environment is the traditional fallacy upon which doomed loves, and lungs, rely.
Vladimir NabokovRead
But that mimosa grove-the haze of stars, the tingle, the flame, the honey-dew, and the ache remained with me, and that little girl with her seaside limbs and ardent tongue haunted me ever since-until at last, twenty-four years later, I broke her spell by incarnating her in another.
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...in my dreams the world would come alive, becoming so captivatingly majestic, free and ethereal, that afterwards it would be oppressive to breathe the dust of this painted life.
Vladimir NabokovRead
I believe the poor fierce-eyed child had figured out that with a mere fifty dollars in her purse she might somehow reach Broadway or Hollywood - or the foul kitchen of a diner (Help Wanted) in a dismal ex-prairie state, with the wind blowing, and the stars blinking, and the cars, and the bars, and the barmen, and everything soiled, torn, dead.
Vladimir NabokovRead
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