Vladimir Nabokov Quotes
The summer night was starless and stirless, with distant spasms of silent lightning.
Vladimir Nabokov
Quotes to Explore
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The political object is the goal, war is the means of reaching it, and the means can never be considered in isolation from their purposes.
Carl von Clausewitz
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I started off thinking that I just needed one shot to prove myself, but then I realised that I was only going to learn about acting by doing it.
Oscar Isaac
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People often ask me whether I believe in God. I haven't seen God. But I think that one's beliefs are one's God - and, in those terms, yes, God is there.
Kapil Dev
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Writers are outsiders. Even when we seem like insiders, we're outsiders. We have to be. Our noses pressed to the glass, we notice everything. We mull and interpret. We store away clues, details that may be useful to us later.
Dani Shapiro
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Applause is the spur of noble minds, the end and aim of weak ones.
Edmund Burke
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I do not find it easy to articulate thoughts about religion. I remain the sort of person who turns off 'Thought for the Day' when it comes on the radio.
A. N. Wilson
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People say a lot of hurtful things, but in a way, the abuse that I endured from my husband prepared me for that. The things I had been told and drilled into my head from him were worse than what anybody could say to me.
La'Porsha Renae
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To get art nowadays, in cinema or books or anything, that grapples with the possibility of a meaningless universe... it just doesn't happen any more. In even the most indie of the indie films, everything has to come to some kind of neat conclusion.
Emily Mortimer
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I'm a modern man, a man for the millennium, digital and smoke-free. A diversified multicultural postmodern deconstructionist. Politically, anatomically, and ecologically incorrect.
George Carlin
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Phall if you but will, rise you must: and none so soon either shall the pharce for the nunce come to a setdown secular phoenish. (4.15-17)
James Joyce
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There comes a night when all too late The mind shall long to prompt the achieving hand, The eager thought behind closed portals stand, And the last wishes to the mute lips press Buried ere death in silent helplessness.
George Eliot
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The summer night was starless and stirless, with distant spasms of silent lightning.
Vladimir Nabokov