I Shall Be Dumped Where The Weed

Loneliness As A Situation Can Be Corrected, But As A State Of Mind It Is An Incurable Illness.

I Cannot Conceive How Anybody In His Right Mind Should Go To A Psychoanalyst.

And This Is The Only Immortality You And I May Share, My Lolita.

Why Should I Tolerate A Perfect Stranger At The Bedside Of My Mind?

There Are Two Kinds Of Visual Memory: One When You Skillfully Recreate An Image In The Laboratory Of Your Mind, With Your Eyes Open (and Then I See Annabel In Such General Terms As: "honey-colored Skin," "thin Arms," "brown Bobbed Hair," "long Lashes," "big Bright Mouth"); And The Other When You Instantly Evoke, With Shut Eyes, On The Dark Innerside Of Your Eyelids, The Objective, Absolutely Optical Replica Of A Beloved Face, A Little Ghost In Natural Colors (and This Is How I See Lolita).