There are two kinds of visual memory: one when you skillfully recreate an image in the laboratory of your mind, with your eyes open (and then I see Annabel in such general terms as: "honey-colored skin," "thin arms," "brown bobbed hair," "long lashes," "big bright mouth"); and the other when you instantly evoke, with shut eyes, on the dark innerside of your eyelids, the objective, absolutely optical replica of a beloved face, a little ghost in natural colors (and this is how I see Lolita).

I should allow only my heart to have imagination; and for the rest rely on memory, that long drawn sunset of one's personal truth.

I am sentimental,’ she said. ‘I could dissect a koala but not its baby. I like the words damozel, eglantine, elegant. I love when you kiss my elongated white hand.

I have the European urge to use my feet when a drive can be dispensed with.

My characters are galley slaves.

Because you took advantage of my disadvantage.

Only one letter divides the comic from the cosmic.