Book: Lolita

If a violin string can suffer, I have suffered as a string.

... and finally, when I had completely enmeshed with the heat radiating darling this network of ethereal caresses, I dared stroke her leg, at the gooseberry hairs along the tibia.

Suddenly we were in love with each other - madly, clumsily, shamelessly, agonizingly; I would even add the hopeless...

... we are inclined to endow our friends with the stability properties and the fate of that literary characters acquire in the reader's mind.

Floor only the servant of art.

Faking, I thought, pretending to be right, to evade my caresses; I burned a passion, but the poor girl began very tedious whining, when I got to her.

Lolita is so close and yet so woefully unattainable, and so to love her, to love on the eve of a new era when, according to my estimates, the Volkhov, it would have to stop being a nymphet, stop torturing me.

For there is on earth a second of bliss undead jailbait.

How smug I marveled that she was mine, mine, mine...

I felt like my heart is beating everywhere at the same time.

Most of the dandelions had changed from suns to moons.

From visual memory there are two approaches: the one and manages to skillfully recreate the image in the laboratory of brain, not turning a blind eye (and then Annabella seems to me in General terms as: "honey-coloured skin" "thin hands", "trimmed blonde hair", "long lashes," "big bright mouth"); the other - close my eyes and instantly call on the dark inner side of the eyelids, the objective, optical, extremely faithful reproduction of your favorite features: little Ghost in natural colors (and this is how I see lolita).

From perfect fiery vision was perfect and my wild soul for the vision was out of reach, and because bliss could not prevent the consciousness of prohibition, gravitated over achievable. Who knows, maybe the true essence of my "perversion" depends not so much from direct charm, clear, clean, young, forbidden, magical beauty of girls as from the consciousness of invulnerability captivating position in which the infinite perfection fill the gap between what little they offered, and all that promises, all that lurks in marvelous colors distant depths.

But who would upset such a lucid dear? Did I mention anywhere that her bare hand was observed Osmankoy the vaccination of smallpox? I loved her hopelessly? She was only fourteen years old?