Lolita, Light Of My Life, Fire Of

He Broke My Heart. You Merely Broke My Life.

When I Try To Analyze My Own Cravings, Motives, Actions And So Forth, I Surrender To A Sort Of Retrospective Imagination Which Feeds The Analytic Faculty With Boundless Alternatives And Which Causes Each Visualized Route To Fork And Re-fork Without End In The Maddeningly Complex Prospect Of My Past.

Let All Of Life Be An Unfettered Howl.

I Always Call Him Lewis Carroll Carroll, Because He Was The First Humbert Humbert.

It Is Strange That The Tactile Sense, Which Is So Infinitely Less Precious To Men Than Sight, Becomes At Critical Moments Our Main, If Not Only, Handle To Reality.