I think like a genius, I write like a distinguished author, and I speak like a child.

Literature and butterflies are the two sweetest passions known to man.

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.

Most of the dandelions had changed from suns to moons.

Thus, in pornographic novels, action has to be limited to the copulation of clichés.

Pnin slowly walked under solemn pines. The sky was dying. He did not believe in an autocratic God. He did believe, dimly, in a democracy of ghosts. The souls of the dead, perhaps, formed committees, and these, in continuous session, attended the destinies of the quick.

Do not be angry with the rain; it simply does not know how to fall upwards.