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Quote by Vladimir Nabokov

“I discovered in nature the non utilitarian delights that I sought in art. Both were a form of magic, both were a game of intricate enchantment and deception.”

Quote by Vladimir Nabokov

Work

Speak, Memory

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Author

Vladimir Nabokov
Vladimir Nabokov

Russian-born American novelist, best known for his novel 'Lolita'. Nabokov is renowned for his unique literary style and profound use of language and symbolism. more

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“If you are working on something, about to deliver it, moments from opening the doors, an hour from everybody arriving, a week from the release date, two minutes from getting the results back, and you have butterflies in your stomach, be grateful. You are in a wonderful place. Nerves are God's gift to you, reminding you that your life is not passing you by. Make friends with the butterflies. Welcome when they come, revel in them, enjoy them, and if they go away, do whatever it takes to put yourself in a position where they return. Better to have a stomach full of butterflies than to feel like your life is passing you by.”

“Deep, rich orange and speckled with black, every now and again a flick of their wings flashed an underside of green and mother-of-pearl - the silver wash that gives the fritillaries their name. The female flies straight and level, the slow semaphore of her wing-beats and the scent from the tip of her abdomen exuding allure. The male swoops in tight loops under and up and in front of her, stalling so she can pass beneath him through a shower of intoxicating scent-scales shed from his forewings.”

“A butterfly fluttered from flower to flower in the old garden, gracing the silvery-blue tips of the crocuses and what remained of the icy-white petals of the lady's prized tulips. The yellow strands on the butterfly's wings shimmered in the fading light, and Libby watched the creature in its journey, mesmerized by the graceful rise and fall of its dance. Her arms outstretched, Libby twirled around like she had as a girl, embracing the last rays of sunlight. Here in this garden, she was as free as the butterfly. Here she didn't have to hide. The butterfly climbed above the flowers and soared toward the lily pond. Beyond the pond were more flowers, hundreds of them, and then the trees. Soon the butterfly would curl up under a rock or leaf and rest for the night, hiding in the darkness, alone and vulnerable until the sun powered her wings again at dawn. Libby trailed the creature around the pond to see where it would land. If the night stayed warm, she might curl up beside the butterfly to rest, but not now. She no longer had to hide in these gardens. Soon the moonlight would glaze the paths with gold, and she would explore for hours, enveloped in the shadows and the light.”