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А Б В Г Д Е Ж З И Й К Л М Н О П Р С Т У Ф Х Ц Ч Ш Щ Э Ю Я
0-9 A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z
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1. Lolita. Part One. Chapters 23 - 27
Входимость: 4. Размер: 59кб.
2. Lolita. Part One. Chapters 18 - 22
Входимость: 1. Размер: 53кб.
3. Интервью Набокова на английском языке. TV-13 NY, 1965 г.
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4. Lolita. Part One. Chapters 12 - 17
Входимость: 1. Размер: 43кб.
5. Ада, или Радости страсти. Семейная хроника. (Часть 1, глава 29)
Входимость: 1. Размер: 6кб.
6. Чарльз Кинбот: Серебристый свет. Подлинная жизнь Владимира Набокова. Chapter Seven. King, Queen, Knave
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7. Lolita. Part Two. Chapters 3 - 8
Входимость: 1. Размер: 54кб.
8. Eugene Onegin. A Novel in Verse by Aleksandr Pushkin. Chapter six
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9. Eugene Onegin. A Novel in Verse by Aleksandr Pushkin. Chapter seven
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10. Чарльз Кинбот: Серебристый свет. Подлинная жизнь Владимира Набокова. Chapter Ten. America
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1. Lolita. Part One. Chapters 23 - 27
Входимость: 4. Размер: 59кб.
Часть текста: may be imagined screeching, but not loud enough to drown the rhythmical yaps of the Junk setter walking from group to groupfrom a bunch of neighbors already collected on the sidewalk, near the bit of checked stuff, and back to the car which he had finally run to earth, and then to another group on the lawn, consisting of Leslie, two policemen and a sturdy man with tortoise shell glasses. At this point, I should explain that the prompt appearance of the patrolmen, hardly more than a minute after the accident, was due to their having been ticketing the illegally parked cars in a cross lane two blocks down the grade; that the fellow with the glasses was Frederick Beale, Jr., driver of the Packard; that his 79-year-old father, whom the nurse had just watered on the green bank where he laya banked banker so to speakwas not in a dead faint, but was comfortably and methodically recovering from a mild heart attack or its possibility; and, finally, that the laprobe on the sidewalk (where she had so often pointed out to me with disapproval the crooked green cracks) concealed the mangled remains of Charlotte Humbert who had been knocked down and dragged several feet by the Beale car as she was hurrying across the street to drop three letters in the mailbox, at the corner of Miss Opposite’s lawn. These were picked up and handed to me by a pretty child in a dirty pink frock, and I got rid of them by clawing them to...
2. Lolita. Part One. Chapters 18 - 22
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Часть текста: control her heart or her cries, she was a woman of principle. Immediately after she had become more or less my mistress (despite the stimulants, her “nervous, eager chri  a heroic chri   !  had some initial trouble, for which, however, he amply compensated her by a fantastic display of old-world endearments), good Charlotte interviewed me about my relations with God. I could have answered that on that score my mind was open; I said, insteadpaying my tribute to a pious platitudethat I believed in a cosmic spirit. Looking down at her fingernails, she also asked me had I not in my family a certain strange strain. I countered by inquiring whether she would still want to marry me if my father’s maternal grandfather had been, say, a Turk. She said it did not matter a bit; but that, if she ever found out I did not believe in Our Christian God, she would commit suicide. She said it so solemnly that it gave me the creeps. It was then I knew she was a woman of principle. Oh, she was very genteel: she said “excuse me” whenever a slight burp interrupted her flowing speech, called an envelope and ahnvelope, and when talking to her lady-friends referred to me as Mr. Humbert. I thought it would please her if I entered the community trailing some glamour after me. On the day of our wedding a little interview with ...
3. Интервью Набокова на английском языке. TV-13 NY, 1965 г.
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Часть текста: Program in New York. At our initial meetings I read from prepared cards, and this part of the interview is given below. The rest, represented by some fifty pages typed from the tape, is too colloquial and rambling to suit the scheme of the present book. As with Gogol and even James Agйe, there is occasionally confusion about the pronunciation of your last name. How does one pronounce it correctly? It is indeed a tricky name. It is often misspelt, because the eye tends to regard the "a" of the first syllable as a misprint and then tries to restore the symmetrical sequence by triplicating the "o"-- filling up the row of circles, so to speak, as in a game of crosses and naughts. No-bow-cough. How ugly, how wrong. Every author whose name is fairly often mentioned in periodicals develops a bird-watcher's or caterpillar-picker's knack when scanning an article. But in my case I always get caught by the word "nobody" when capitalized at the beginning of a sentence. As to pronunciation, Frenchmen of course say Nabokoff, with the accent on the last syllable. Englishmen say Nabokov, accent on the first, and Italians say Nabokov, accent in the middle, as Russians also do. Na- bo -kov. A heavy open "o" as in "Knickerbocker". My New England ear is not offended by the long elegant middle "o" of Nabokov as delivered in American academies. The awful "Na-bah-kov" is a despicable gutterism. Well, you can make your choice now. Incidentallv, the first name is pronounced Vladeemer-- rhyming with "redeemer"-- not Vladimir rhyming with Faddimere (a place in England, I think). How about the name of your extraordinary creature. Professor P-N-I-N? The "p" is sounded,...
4. Lolita. Part One. Chapters 12 - 17
Входимость: 1. Размер: 43кб.
Часть текста: corner of a city bus full of straphanging school children. But for almost three weeks I had been interrupted in all my pathetic machinations. The agent of these interruptions was usually the Haze woman (who, as the reader will mark, was more afraid of Lo’s deriving some pleasure from me than of my enjoying Lo). The passion I had developed for that nymphetfor the first nymphet in my life that could be reached at last by my awkward, aching, timid clawswould have certainly landed me again in a sanatorium, had not the devil realized that I was to be granted some relief if he wanted to have me as a plaything for some time longer. The reader has also marked the curious Mirage of the Lake. It would have been logical on the part of Aubrey McFate (as I would like to dub that devil of mine) to arrange a small treat for me on the promised beach, in the presumed forest. Actually, the promise Mrs. Haze had made was a fraudulent one: she had not told me that Mary Rose Hamilton (a dark little beauty in her own right) was to come too, and that the two nymphets would be whispering apart, and playing apart, and having a good time all by themselves, while Mrs. Haze and her handsome lodger conversed sedately in the seminude, far from prying eyes. Incidentally, eyes did pry and tongues did wag. How queer life is! We hasten to alienate the very fates we intended to woo. Before my actual arrival, my landlady had planned to have an old spinster, a Miss Phalen, whose mother had been...
5. Ада, или Радости страсти. Семейная хроника. (Часть 1, глава 29)
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Часть текста: вскрывший послание). – А нежное Соседство, часом, не из знакомых мне девиц? Потому что, сколько ты ни пыхти, это как-то не схоже с посланием от одного доктора к другому. Ван поднял глаза к плафону Буше на потолке малой столовой и в насмешливом восторге перед Демоновой проницательностью покачал головой. Да, разумеется. Ему придется нырнуть в глубь страны до самого Клонпо (анаграмма “поклона”, понимаешь?), в сельцо, которое называется совсем как Легтам, только наоборот (понимаешь?), чтобы навестить сумасшедшую художницу по имени то ли Дорис, то ли Ордис, рисующую исключительно лошадок да мышиных жеребчиков. Под выдуманным именем (Буше) Ван снял комнату в единственном постоялом дворе убогой деревушки Малагарь, стоящей на берегу Ладоры, милях в двадцати от Ардиса. Ночь он провел, сражаясь с достославным комаром или его cousin'ом, которому Ван куда больше пришелся по вкусу, чем ардисовским зверюгам. Единственная, расположенная на пристани ретирада представляла собой черную дыру со следами фекальных извержений меж двух великанских подошв раскоряченного постояльца. В семь часов утра 25 июля он из малагарской почтовой конторы позвонил в Ардис, его соединили с Бутом, в этот миг соединявшимся с Бланш и принявшим голос Вана за голос дворецкого. – Черт дери, па, – рявкнул Бут в дорофон у кровати, – я занят! – Давай сюда Бланш, дубина! – прорычал Ван. – Oh, pardon, – воскликнул Бут, – un moment, Monsieur. Пробка с влажным чмоком вылезла из бутылки (рейнвейн они, что ли, хлещут в семь-то часов утра!), и Бланш взяла трубку, но едва Ван принялся диктовать ей прилежно продуманное послание к Аде, как из детской, где под мертвым барометром сотрясался и булькал самый звучный в доме аппарат, ему ответила сама Ада, проведшая ночь qui vive. – Лесная...
6. Чарльз Кинбот: Серебристый свет. Подлинная жизнь Владимира Набокова. Chapter Seven. King, Queen, Knave
Входимость: 1. Размер: 18кб.
Часть текста: characterize as the overly vociferous behest of my good, but sometimes impatient, editor, who enjoined me, in a fax sent to the seedy but comfortable hotel in Villefranche-sur-Mer where I was recovering from recent scholarly labors, to "get on with it." (Incidentally, the sea softly plashing against the sandy edge of this charming townlet is, at noon, a deep azure hue, recalling a certain lake in my homeland, a distant northern land. And at night, I have noticed on my insomniac rambles, the moon casts slivers of silvery light upon the ink-black waters. Do remind me to say more of this later.) The original contract for this book (signed three years ago with a then noticeably more solicitous publisher whose name I am legally bound not to mention) stipulated that the text be comprised not only of biography proper (of which the reader has already enjoyed, I trust, a taste) but also of criticism of each of Nabokov's books. In lieu of any sensible reason not to proceed in any but a chronological, or pseudo-chronological, fashion, I turn now to Korol', dama, valet , 2 a novel quite different from...
7. Lolita. Part Two. Chapters 3 - 8
Входимость: 1. Размер: 54кб.
Часть текста: sadly, I dubbed her My Frigid Princess. She did not see the wistful joke. Oh, d not scowl at me, reader, I do not intend to convey the impressin that I did not manage to be happy. Readeer must understand that in the possession and thralldom of a nymphet the enchanted traveler stands, as it were, beyond happiness.   For there is no other bliss on earth comparable to that of fondling a nymphet. It is hors   concours  , that bliss, it belongs to another class, another plane of sensitivity. 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 paradisea paradise whose skies were the color of hell-flamesbut still a paradise. The able psychiatrist who studies my caseand whom by now Dr. Humbert has plunged, I trust, into a state of leporine fascinationis no doubt anxious to have me take Lolita to the seaside and have me find there, at last, the “gratification” of a lifetime urge, and release from the “subconscious” obsession of an incomplete childhood romance with the initial little Miss Lee. Well, comrade, let me tell you that I did   look for a beach, though I also have to confess that by the time we reached its mirage of gray water, so many delights had already been granted me by my traveling companion that the search for a Kingdom by the Sea, a Sublimated Riviera, or whatnot, far from being the impulse of the subconscious, had become the rational pursuit of a purely theoretical thrill. The angels knew it, and arranged things...
8. Eugene Onegin. A Novel in Verse by Aleksandr Pushkin. Chapter six
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Часть текста: Chapter six CHAPTER SIX Là, sotto i giorni nubilosi e brevi, Nasce una gente a cui '1 morir non dole. Petr. I   On noticing that Vladimir had vanished,   Onegin, by ennui pursued again,   by Olga's side sank into meditation,   4  pleased with his vengeance.   After him Ólinka yawned too,   sought Lenski with her eyes,   and the endless cotillion   8  irked her like an oppressive dream.   But it has ended. They go in to supper.   The beds are made. Guests are assigned   night lodgings — from the entrance hall 12  even to the maids' quarters. Restful sleep   by all is needed. My Onegin   alone has driven home to sleep. II   All has grown quiet. In the drawing room   the heavy Pustyakov   snores with his heavy better half.   4  Gvozdin, Buyanov, Petushkov,   and Flyanov (who is not quite well)   have bedded in the dining room on chairs,   with, on the floor, Monsieur Triquet   8  in underwaistcoat and old nightcap.   All the young ladies, ...
9. Eugene Onegin. A Novel in Verse by Aleksandr Pushkin. Chapter seven
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Часть текста: 8  The yet transparent woods   as if with down are greening.   The bee flies from her waxen cell   after the tribute of the field. 12  The dales grow dry and varicolored.   The herds are noisy, and the nightingale   has sung already in the hush of nights. II   How sad your apparition is to me,   spring, spring, season of love!   What a dark stir there is   4  in my soul, in my blood!   With what oppressive tenderness   I revel in the whiff   of spring fanning my face   8  in the lap of the rural stillness!   Or is enjoyment strange to me,   and all that gladdens, animates,   all that exults and gleams, 12  casts spleen and languishment   upon a soul long dead   and all looks dark to it? III   Or gladdened not by the return   of leaves that perished in the autumn,   a bitter loss we recollect,   4  harking to the new murmur of the woods;   or with reanimated nature we   compare in troubled thought   the withering of our years,   8  for which there is no renovation?   Perhaps there comes into our thoughts,   midst a poetical reverie,   some other ancient spring, 12  which sets our heart aquiver   with the dream of a distant clime,   a marvelous night, a moon.... IV   Now is the time: good lazybones,   epicurean sages; you,   equanimous fortunates;   4  you, fledglings of the Lyóvshin 41 school;   you, country Priams;   and sentimental ladies, you;   spring calls you to the country,   8  season ...
10. Чарльз Кинбот: Серебристый свет. Подлинная жизнь Владимира Набокова. Chapter Ten. America
Входимость: 1. Размер: 10кб.
Часть текста: found the jewels, but that is a tale for another time. I was met at the station by an envoy, if that's not too grand a word, from the university, whom I did not immediately recognize despite the rectangle of cardstock he held chest-high with my adopted moniker carefully lettered on it. He was so young I looked right past him, toward an elderly gentleman in a dark uniform who corresponded to the mental image of natty chauffeur I had formed during the crossing. When I accosted him with a question and a questioning expression, he shook his head and stared past me, as if I weren't there. I gathered from his stony rebuff that I was only one in a series of persons to have mistaken him for their driver. Looking around, I spotted the person I had previously missed, and marveled at my having missed not only my new name, prominently displayed, but at my having failed to notice and acknowledge such an attractive youth. The blond lock covering his forehead almost obscured his electric blue eyes. He wore a very long, very shaggy overcoat of sorts, unbuttoned, and a crisp light blue oxford shirt, the tails of which were tucked into incongruously soiled dungarees. Grease from the machine shop? Dirt from a good-natured game of Fuss in the yard? I introduced myself by pointing mutely at the sign, then at my own breast. "Doctor Kinbot?" he asked, uncertain. I smiled. " Kinbote ," good sir, "the o is long, like das Boot in German, or, or the French ?ter ." He apologized as I clasped his hand, which was warm and wet (from holding the sign? from nervousness over the prospect of meeting an arriving dignitary?), and pumped it several times ? l'am?ricaine, as my English tutor, publicly contemptuous but secretly envious of everything American, had shown me four decades ago. In the car, a plumpish but sleek gray thing with lots of chrome and lots of room in the boot for my luggage, young Jack Wilson chatted affably, and now less...