Vladimir Nabokov Quotes About Consciousness

Quotes about: Consciousness

• in a sense, all poetry is positional: to try to express one's position in regard to the universe embraced by consciousness, is an immemorial urge. The arms of consciousness reach out and grope, and the longer they are the better. Tentacles, not wings, are Apollo's natural members.

  Vladimir Nabokov

  Wings, Trying, Apollo

  Vladimir Vladimirovich Nabokov (1951). “Speak, Memory: A Memoir”

• All my life I have been a poor go-to-sleeper. No matter how great my weariness, the wrench of parting with consciousness is unspeakably repulsive to me.

  Vladimir Nabokov

  Insomnia, Matter, Consciousness

  Vladimir Nabokov (2011). “The Stories of Vladimir Nabokov”, p.488, Vintage

• It is certainly not then-not in dreams- but when one is wide awake, at moments of robust joy and achievement, on the highest terrace of consciousness, that mortality has a chance to peer beyond its own limits, from the mast, from the past and its castle tower. And although nothing much can be seen through the mist, there is somehow the blissful feeling that one is looking in the right direction.

  Vladimir Nabokov

  Dream, Truth, Past

  Vladimir Vladimirovich Nabokov (1989). “Speak, Memory: An Autobiography Revisited”

• What surprises you in life? The marvel of consciousness -- that sudden window swinging open on a sunlit landscape amidts the night of non-being.

  Vladimir Nabokov

  Night, Landscape, Surprise

• How small the cosmos (a kangaroo's pouch would hold it), how paltry and puny in comparison to human consciousness, to a single individual recollection, and its expression in words!

  Vladimir Nabokov

  Expression, Kangaroos, Cosmos

  Vladimir Nabokov (2012). “Speak, Memory: An Autobiography Revisited”, p.16, Penguin UK

• Whenever I start thinking of my love for a person, I am in the habit of immediately drawing radii from my love - from my heart, from the tender nucleus of a personal matter- to monstrously remote points of the universe. Something impels me to measure the consciousness of my love against such unimaginable and incalculable things as the behaviour of nebulae (whose very remoteness seems a form of insanity), the dreadful pitfalls of eternity, the unknowledgeable beyond the unknown, the helplessness, the cold, the sickening involutions and interpenetrations of space and time.

  Vladimir Nabokov

  Heart, Thinking, Drawing

  Vladimir Vladimirovich Nabokov (1951). “Speak, memory: a memoir”

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