By God, I could make myself bring her that economically halved grapefruit, that sugarless breakfast.

The square root of I is I.

I see nothing for the treatment of my misery but the melancholy and very local palliative of articulate art.

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

The social or economic structure of the ideal state is of little concern to me. My desires are modest. Portraits of the head of the government should not exceed a postage stamp in size. No torture and no executions. No music, except coming through earphones, or played in theaters. Freedom of speech, freedom of thought, freedom of art.

The clumsiest literal translation is a thousand times more useful than the prettiest paraphrase.

My little cup brims with tiddles.