The 30 best quotes from Lolita

It's good that Lolita Quotes can be quoted for movie fans and fans. 

The movie was in the summer of 1962 on June 21.


We have collected the best Lolita quotes for you.

“It was love at first sight, at last sight, at ever and ever sight.” ― Vladimir Nabokov, Lolita

 “Let all of life be an unfettered howl. Like the crowd greeting the gladiator. Don't stop to think, don't interrupt the scream, exhale, release life's rapture.” ― Vladimir Nabokov

“Lolita, the light of my life, fire of my loins. My sin, my soul. Lo-lee-ta: the tip of the tongue taking a trip of three steps down the palate to tap, at three, on the teeth. Lo. Lee. Ta. 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. Did she have a precursor? She did, indeed she did. There might have been no Lolita at all had I not loved, one summer, an initial girl-child. In a princedom by the sea. Oh when? About as many years before Lolita was born as my age was that summer. You can always count on a murderer for a fancy prose style. Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, exhibit number one is what the seraphs, the misinformed, simple, noble-winged seraphs, envied. Look at this tangle of thorns.”― Vladimir Nabokov, Lolita

  “I think it is all a matter of love; the more you love a memory the stronger and stranger it becomes”― Vladimir Nabokov

 “And the rest is rust and stardust.” ― Vladimir Nabokov, Lolita

 “He broke my heart. You merely broke my life.”― Vladimir Nabokov, Lolita

 “Human life is but a series of footnotes to a vast obscure unfinished masterpiece”― Vladimir Nabokov, Lolita

“Our imagination flies -- we are its shadow on the earth.”― Vladimir Nabokov

“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” ― Vladimir Nabokov

 "No single word in English renders all the shades of toska. At its deepest and most painful, it is a sensation of great spiritual anguish, often without any specific cause. At less morbid levels it is a dull ache of the soul, a longing with nothing to long for, a sick pining, a vague restlessness, mental throes, yearning. In particular cases, it may be the desire for somebody of something specific, nostalgia, love-sickness. At the lowest level, it grades into ennui, boredom.”― Vladimir Nabokov

 “Let all of life be an unfettered howl. Like the crowd greeting the gladiator. Don't stop to think, don't interrupt the scream, exhale, release life's rapture. Everything is blooming. Everything is flying. Everything is screaming, choking on its screams. Laughter. Running. Let-down hair. That is all there is to life. ”― Vladimir Nabokov

  “You can always count on a murderer for a fancy prose style.” ― Vladimir Nabokov, Lolita

  “Despite everything I loved you and will go on loving you--on my knees, with my shoulders drawn back, showing my heels to the headsman and straining my gooseneck--even then. And afterward--perhaps most of all afterward--I shall love you, and one day we shall have a real, all-embracing explanation, and then perhaps we shall somehow fit together, you and I, and turn ourselves in such a way that we form one pattern, and solve the puzzle: draw a line from point A to point B...without looking, or, without lifting the pencil...or in some other way...we shall connect the points, draw the line, and you and I shall form that unique design for which I yearn. If they do this kind of thing to me every morning, they will get me trained and I shall become quite wooden.”― Vladimir Nabokov, Invitation to a Beheading

“Some people—and I am one of them—hate happy ends. We feel cheated. Harm is the norm. Doom should not jam. The avalanche stopping in its tracks a few feet above the cowering village behaves not only unnaturally but unethically.”― Vladimir Nabokov, Pnin

  “Literature was not born the day when a boy crying "wolf, wolf" came running out of the Neanderthal valley with a big gray wolf at his heels; literature was born on the day when a boy came crying "wolf, wolf" and there was no wolf behind him.”― Vladimir Nabokov, Lectures on Literature

  “Don't cry, I'm sorry to have deceived you so much, but that's how life is.” ― Vladimir Nabokov, Lolita

 “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 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.”― Vladimir Nabokov, Lolita

“Suddenly for no earthly reason I felt immensely sorry for him and longed to say something real, something with wings and a heart, but the birds I wanted to be settled on my shoulders and head only later when I was alone and not in need of words.”― Vladimir Nabokov, The Real Life of Sebastian Knight

  “In a nervous and slender-leaved mimosa grove at the back of their villa, we found a perch on the ruins of a low stone wall. She trembled and twitched as I kissed the corner of her parted lips and the hot lobe of her ear. 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. Her legs, her lovely live legs, were not too close together, and when my hand located what it sought, a dreamy and eerie expression, half-pleasure, half-pain, came over those childish features. She sat a little higher than I, and whenever in her solitary ecstasy she was led to kissing me, her head would bend with a sleepy, soft, drooping movement that was almost woeful, and her bare knees caught and compressed my wrist, and slackened again; and her quivering mouth, distorted by the acridity of some mysterious potion, with a sibilant intake of breath came near to my face. She would try to relieve the pain of love by first roughly rubbing her dry lips against mine; then my darling would draw away with a nervous toss of her hair, and then again come darkly near and let me feed on her open mouth, while with a generosity that was ready to offer her everything, my heart, my throat, my entrails, I gave her to hold in her awkward fist the scepter of my passion.”― Vladimir Nabokov, Lolita

“Long after her death, I felt her thoughts floating through mine. Long before we met we had had the same dreams. We compared notes. We found strange affinities. The same June of the same year (1919) a stray canary had fluttered into her house and mine, in two widely separated countries. Oh, Lolita, had you love me thus!”― Vladimir Nabokov, Lolita

“Theoretically there is no absolute proof that one's awakening in the morning (the finding oneself again in the saddle of one's personality) is not a quite unprecedented event, a perfectly original birth.” ― Vladimir Nabokov, Bend Sinister

  “Readers are not sheep, and not every pen tempts them.”― Vladimir Nabokov, Lectures on Literature

“I shall be dumped where the weed decays, And the rest is rust and stardust” ― Vladimir Nabokov, Lolita

  “I loved you. I was a pentapod monster, but I loved you. I was despicable and brutal, and turpid, and everything, Mais Je t’aimais, Je t’aimais! And there were times when I knew how you felt, and it was hell to know it, my little one. Lolita girl, brave Dolly Schiller.” ― Vladimir Nabokov, Lolita

  “I knew I had fallen in love with Lolita forever, but I also knew she would not be forever Lolita.” ― Vladimir Nabokov, Lolita

 “We are most artistically caged.” ― Vladimir Nabokov, Pale Fire

“...in my dreams, the world would come alive, becoming so captivatingly majestic, free and ethereal, that afterward, it would be oppressive to breathe the dust of this painted life.”― Vladimir Nabokov, Invitation to a Beheading

“Oh, don't cry, I'm so sorry I cheated so much, but that's the way things are.”― Vladimir Nabokov, Lolita

“And yet I adore him. I think he's quite crazy, and with no place or occupation in life, and far from happy, and philosophically irresponsible – and there is absolutely nobody like him.”― Vladimir Nabokov, Ada, or Ardor: A Family Chronicle