Character: Humbert Humbert. Page 1

Everyone has such fateful objects or phenomena - in one case, a recurring landscape in the other - figures that the gods are carefully picked in order to bring a significant event for us: here John always stumble there is always a broken heart Jenny.

I cheated on her with one of Laitinen white socks.

Who can say what heartbreaks are caused in a dog by our discontinuing a romp that!

When I returned, the house was still besluiten.

She wore her vulnerability in the armor of cheap arrogance and deliberate boredom, whereas I, taking advantage of their hapless scientists comments an artificial tone, which I myself have whined the last teeth, caused its audience to such outbursts of rudeness that it was impossible to continue, Oh, my poor, tortured girl.

The track that I heard, was compiled from the sounds of children playing, only one of them. Standing tall on the ramp, I couldn't stop listening to that musical vibration, those flashes of separate cries on the background of a smooth rumble, and then it became clear to me that piercing a hopeless horror is not that Lolita is not here with me, and that her voice isn't in this choir.

Somehow, I saw before me - the image was shaking and silky wet gleamed on the retina - a bright girl of twelve, sitting on the doorstep and the stones fall loud in an empty tin can.

The day was dying, I had taken the road under a small rain, and, as if actively went two twins in the sight glass, they could not cope with my tears.

Again, I was crying, getting drunk on the impossible past.

In the hotel we had separate rooms, but in the middle of the night she, crying, came to me and we quietly made your peace with her. You see, she had absolutely nowhere else to go.

<...> she had a smooth forehead, plucked eyebrows and quite simple, although quite attractive facial features of a type can be defined as a weak solution of Marlena Dietrich.

It's amazing how difficult something to hide - especially when one's wife keeps monkeying with things.

Her death became an obstacle for another love. The child I loved was gone. But long after her death I felt her thoughts floating through mine. Poison left in the wound, and the wound is not delayed.

She was Lo. Plain Lo in the morning, rising five feet and one sock. She was Lola in slacks. She was a Stake in the school. She was Dolores on the dotted forms. But in my arms she was always Lolita. The light of my life. Fire of my loins. My sin. My soul. Lolita.