Persons who have been homeless carry within them a certain philosophy of life which makes them apprehensive about ownership.

In London, the weather would affect me negatively. I react strongly to light. If it is cloudy and raining, there are clouds and rain in my soul.

[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.

The principles of true art is not to portray, but to evoke.

I don't fret over lost time - I can always use the situations in a novel.

I look back into past history, the stored experiences or products of the imagination. I look no further forward than the evening.

I can create countries just as I can create the actions of my characters. That is why a lot of travel seems to me a waste of time.