I knew I had fallen in love with Lolita forever; but I also knew she would not be forever Lolita.

A masterpiece of fiction is an original world and as such is not likely to fit the world of the reader.

Life is a message scribbled in the dark.

I have no ear for music. When I attend a concert, I endeavor gamely to follow the sequence and relationship of sounds but cannot keep it up for more than a few minutes. Visual impressions, reflections of hands in lacquered wood, a diligent bald spot over a fiddle, take over, and soon I am bored beyond measure by the motions of the musicians.

All my stories are webs of style and none seems at first blush to contain much kinetic matter.

A work of art has no importance whatever to society. It is only important to the individual.

My mind speaks English, my heart speaks Russian, and my ear prefers French.