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We Think Not In Words But In Shadows Of Words.
-Vladimir Nabokov
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We Think Not In Words But In
Vladimir Nabokov
We Think Not In Words But In Shadows Of Words.
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Topic
Thinking
Shadow
More From Vladimir Nabokov
I Was The Shadow Of The Waxwing Slain By The False Azure In The Windowpane; I Was The Smudge Of Ashen Fluff -and I Lived On, Flew On, In The Reflected Sky. And From The Inside, Too, I'd Duplicate Myself, My Lamp, An Apple On A Plate: Uncurtaining The Night, I'd Let Dark Glass Hang All The Furniture Above The Grass, And How Delightful When A Fall Of Snow Covered My Glimpse Of Lawn And Reached Up So As To Make Chair And Bed Exactly Stand Upon That Snow, Out In That Crystal Land!
Fall
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Caress The Detail, The Divine Detail.
Religion
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Chaos
...and The Red Sun Of Desire And Decision (the Two Things That Create A Live World) Rose Higher And Higher, While Upon A Succession Of Balconies A Succession Of Libertines, Sparkling Glass In Hand, Toasted The Bliss Of Past And Future Nights.
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The Lost Glove Is Happy.
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I Am Sufficiently Proud Of My Knowing Something To Be Modest About My Not Knowing All.
Humble
Knowing
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