And she was mine, she was mine, the key was in my fist, my fist was in my pocket, she was mine.
And she was mine, she was mine, the key was in my fist, my fist was in my pocket, she was mine.
And the rest is rust and stardust.
Being a murderer with a sensational but incomplete and unorthodox memory, I cannot tell you, ladies and gentlemen, the exact day which I first knew with certainty that the red convertible was following us.
But in my arms she was always Lolita.
By God, I could make myself bring her that economically halved grapefruit, that sugarless breakfast.
Despite our tiffs, despite her nastiness, despite all the fuss and faces she made, and the vulgarity, and the danger, and the horrible hopelessness of it all, I still dwelled deep in my elected paradise - a paradise whose skies were the color of hell-flames - but still a paradise.
Don't cry, I'm sorry to have deceived you so much, but that's how life is.
He broke my heart. You merely broke my life.
Humbert was perfectly capable of intercourse with Eve, but it was Lilith he longed for.
I am not, and never was, and never could have been, a brutal scoundrel.
I am sufficiently proud of my knowing something to be modest about my not knowing all.
A change of environment is the traditional fallacy upon which doomed loves, and lungs, rely.
A cluster of stars palely glowed above us, between the silhouettes of long thin leaves; that vibrant sky seemed as naked as she was under her light frock. I saw her face in the sky, strangely distinct, as if it emitted a faint radiance of its own.
All at once we were madly, clumsily, shamelessly, agonizingly in love with each other; hopelessly, I should add, because that frenzy of mutual possession might have been assuaged only by our actually imbibing and assimilating every particle of each other's soul and flesh; but there we were, unable even to mate as slum children would have so easily found an opportunity to do so.
© 2020 Inspirational Stories
© 2020 Inspirational Stories