Vladimir Nabokov Quotes
I could isolate, consciously, little. Everything seemed blurred, yellow-clouded, yielding nothing tangible. Her inept acrostics, maudlin evasions, theopathies - every recollection formed ripples of mysterious meaning. Everything seemed yellowly blurred, illusive, lost.
Vladimir Nabokov
Quotes to Explore
-
Three publishers came to me at the White House after George lost and said, 'We would like to publish your book.' I said, 'Well, I don't have a book,' and they said well it's a well known fact that you have kept diaries.
Barbara Bush
-
Whatever I'm doing, I'm in that moment and I'm doing it. The rest of the world's lost. If I'm cooking some food or making soup, I want it to be lovely. If not, what's the point of doing it?
Sade Adu
-
I became a people-watcher when I lost all my friends when I was 12.
Taylor Swift
-
Once a landscape is industrialized, its wild character is lost for good. You can't recreate untouched tundra, mountain meadows, crystal clear streams, and animals that have never encountered toxic waste.
Frances Beinecke
-
War, I have always said, forces men to change their standards, regardless of whether their country has won or lost.
Salvatore Quasimodo
-
I like to write about love and love lost because I feel like there are so many different subcategories of emotions that you can possibly delve into.
Taylor Swift
-
In a government that has lost all shame, that fears its own shadow, the majority tramples the minority, legislation is racist and the democratic space is under constant threat.
Ayman Odeh
-
Just a little every day That's the way Children learn to read and write Bit by bit and mite by mite.
Ella Wheeler Wilcox
-
I owe my career to Latina women. I was surrounded by the amazing group: my mother, my aunts, my extended family. They didn't necessarily have access to high fashion, but they had great style and looked stunning naturally at every age.
Narciso Rodriguez
-
You are my evil spirit... you and the hard course world!
Nathaniel Hawthorne
-
I could isolate, consciously, little. Everything seemed blurred, yellow-clouded, yielding nothing tangible. Her inept acrostics, maudlin evasions, theopathies - every recollection formed ripples of mysterious meaning. Everything seemed yellowly blurred, illusive, lost.
Vladimir Nabokov