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Quote by Vladimir Nabokov

“I was an infant when my parents died. Thye both were ornithologists. I've tried So often to evoke them that today I have a thousand parents. Sadly they Dissolve in their own virtues and recede, But certain words, chance words I hear or read, Such as "bad heart" always to him refer, And "cancer of the pancreas" to her.”

Quote by Vladimir Nabokov

Work

Pale fire

Pale Fire is a 1962 novel by Vladimir Nabokov written as a long poem in four sections followed by a detailed commentary. The poem titled Pale Fire is attributed to the fictional poet John Shade, while the extensive notes are attributed to Charles Kinbote, a neighbor and self-proclaimed friend of Shade. The narrative structure creates profound ambiguity about what actually occurred, as the commentary increasingly reveals biases, inconsistencies, and personal preoccupations that conflict with the poem's surface meaning. The book explores themes of artistic creation, the nature of interpretation, exile from a lost homeland, and the fragility of meaning-making in the face of death. It is considered one of the most innovative novels of the twentieth century. more

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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“Eventually, many years later, I came to see him the way everyone else saw him—a nice guy who, despite all the damage he did to us, wasn’t a bad man, not inherently bad, anyway. He just wasn’t very bright, and was in over his head on almost every level of life. He was capable of only so much and not a drop more, and because he seemed so harmless and lost, people not only liked him, they protected him. My mother, despite her poverty, left the opposite impression. She left no doubt that she was psychologically tough and mentally sharp, and because of that the Wozniaks disliked her. And that was another difference between my mother and father. My father was a whiner, a complainer, a perpetually unhappy man unable to comprehend the simple fact that sometimes life is unfair. My mother never complained, and yet her poverty-stricken life was miserable. She never carried on about the early death of her raging alcoholic mother, or the father who raped her, or of a diet dictated by the restrictions of food stamps.”

“I finally made friends with my father when I entered my twenties. We had so little in common when I was a boy, and I am certain I had been a disappointment to him. He did not ask for a child with a book of its own world. He wanted a son who did what he had done: swam and boxed and played rugby, and drove cars at speed with abandon and joy, but that was not what he had wound up with.”

“What you can do, has nothing to do with your parents' last name! What you can do has nothing to do with the colour of your skin! What you can do is fully determined by God! It’s simple!”