A wise reader reads the book of genius not with his heart, not so much with his brain, but with his spine. It is there that occurs the telltale tingle...

Literature and butterflies are the two sweetest passions known to man.

I shall be dumped where the weed decays, And the rest is rust and stardust

All colors made me happy: even gray. My eyes were such that literally they Took photographs.

I was weeping again, drunk on the impossible past.

Curiously enough, one cannot read a book; one can only reread it. A good reader, a major reader, and active and creative reader is a rereader.

A writer should have the precision of a poet and the imagination of a scientist.

Life is a great surprise. I do not see why death should not be an even greater one.

Dear Jesus, do something.

And she was mine, she was mine, the key was in my fist, my fist was in my pocket, she was mine.

I mean, I have the feeling that something in my mind is poisoning everything else.

Some might think that the creativity, imagination, and flights of fancy that give my life meaning are insanity.

And presently I was driving through the drizzle of the dying day, with the windshield wipers in full action but unable to cope with my tears.

Curiosity is insubordination in its purest form.

The breaking of a wave cannot explain the whole sea.

Let all of life be an unfettered howl.

Knowing you have something good to read before bed is among the most pleasurable of sensations.

We loved each other with a premature love, marked by a fierceness that so often destroys adult lives.

Words without experience are meaningless.

She was Lo, plain Lo, in the morning, standing four feet ten in one sock. She was Lola in slacks. She was Dolly at school. She was Dolores on the dotted line. But in my arms she was always Lolita.

I knew I had fallen in love with Lolita forever; but I also knew she would not be forever Lolita.

The pages are still blank, but there is a miraculous feeling of the words being there, written in invisible ink and clamoring to become visible

You can always count on a murderer for a fancy prose style.

Don't cry, I'm sorry to have deceived you so much, but that's how life is.