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
Some might think that the creativity, imagination, and flights of fancy that give my life meaning are insanity.
Interpretation
Creativity and imagination can be misunderstood as madness, but they are essential for a meaningful life.
In this quote, Vladimir Nabokov reflects on the notion that the elements that bring richness and significance to his existence, such as creativity and imagination, may be perceived by others as insanity. He emphasizes that the ability to dream and envision beyond the ordinary is what truly defines the essence of life; thus, he challenges the traditional boundaries of sanity and creativity, suggesting that what is often labeled as 'insanity' is, in fact, a vital part of a fulfilling human experience.
In practice
In a creative writing workshop to inspire participants.
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.
Lolita, 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.
A change of environment is the traditional fallacy upon which doomed loves, and lungs, rely.
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.
...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.
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.
To stop the flow of music would be like the stopping of time itself, incredible and inconceivable.
No critic writing about a film could say more than the film itself, although they do their best to make us think the oppposite.
Being on stage is magic. There's nothing like it. You feel the energy of everybody who's out there. You feel it all over your body. When the lights hit you, it's all over, I swear it is.
All the definitions people want to put on you in terms of what kind of writer you are come with hidden meanings. If you're writing science fiction, you're writing rocket ships. If you write dystopian fiction, it's inequity where The Man must be fought.
Night came walking through Egypt swishing her black dress.
I'm always aware of writing around things I can't do, and I've come to think that that's actually what 'style' is - an avoidance of your deficiencies.
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