Vladimir Nabokov, Letters to Véra
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“It’s pouring, the trees are getting greener before my eyes, I love you. I’m almost afraid of the intensity of this happiness.”
Vladimir Nabokov, from Letters to Véra
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I cannot tell you how utterly miserable I am and how I long to see you, my life.
Vladimir Nabokov, Letters to Véra, 12 May, 1937 (Paris)
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from letters to véra, vladimir nabokov
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Vladimir Nabokov, from Letters to Véra
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— Vladimir Nabokov, Letters to Véra
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But in the compensating night,
in sleepless silence, one keeps listening
to one’s own country, to her murmuring,
her deathless sleep.
Vladimir Nabokov, from poem ‘Soft Sound’
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"My tenderness, my happiness, what words can I write for you? How strange that although my life’s work is moving a pen over paper, I don’t know how to tell you how I love, how I desire you. Such agitation — and such divine peace: melting clouds immersed in sunshine — mounds of happiness. And I am floating with you, in you, aflame and melting — and a whole life with you is like the movement of clouds, their airy, quiet falls, their lightness and smoothness, and the heavenly variety of outline and tint — my inexplicable love. I cannot express these cirrus-cumulus sensations."
- Vladimir Nabokov's love letter to his wife, Véra ❤️
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— Vladimir Nabokov, Letters to Véra
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Vladimir Nabokov, Letters to Véra
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via @iloveroses-deactivated20210116 \\ @el-im \\ @tearsintheraain \\ vladimir nabokov letters to véra
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Found a whole collection of Nabokov's short stories at my local public library. Winning today
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