Tags » Vladimir Nabokov

black and bloody

I reloaded the thing with hands that were black and bloody— I had touched something he had anointed with his thick gore. Then I rejoined him upstairs, the keys jangling in my pockets like gold.

Vladimir Nabokov, Lolita


a burst of royal purple

He was trudging from room to room, bleeding majestically, trying to find an open window, shaking his head, and still trying to talk me out of murder. 27 more words


blood-spattered but still buoyant

“Get out, get out of here,” he said coughing and spitting; and in a nightmare of wonder, I saw this blood-spattered but still buoyant person get into his bed and wrap himself up in the chaotic bedclothes. 40 more words


StoryAlity #119B - Modernist Times Symposium - November 2014

Modernist Times Symposium – November 2014, UWS

On November 20 & 21st 2014, I attended the Modernist Times Symposium at University of Western Sydney.

The event was the best literary symposium I’ve attended – and was also the outstanding highlight of my academic career to date, as the keynote speaker was… 2,512 more words


every shed drop

I may have lost contact with reality for a second or two— oh, nothing of the I-just-blacked-out sort that your common criminal enacts; on the contrary, I want to stress the fact that I was responsible for every shed drop of his bubbleblood; but a kind of momentary shift occurred as if I were in the connubial bedroom, and Charlotte were sick in bed. 61 more words


a dawning sense of unbelievable luck

He was quiet at last. Far from feeling any relief, a burden even weightier than the one I had hoped to get rid of was with me, upon me, over me. 50 more words


young and alone

“He looked her over more closely than he had done before. He had read somewhere (we might recall the precise title if we tried, not Tiltil, that’s in Blue Beard …) that a man can recognize a Lesbian, young and alone (because a tailored old pair can fool no one), by a combination of three characteristics: slightly trembling hands, a cold-in-the-head voice, and that skidding-in-panic of the eyes if you happen to scan with obvious appraisal such charms as the occasion might force her to show (lovely shoulders, for instance).”

— Vladimir Nabokov, Ada