Владимир Набоков: Поиск по текстам произведений автора и критике. Cлово "JUDGMENT". Классическая русская литература.

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Часть текста: «А. П.», заменяющие эпиграф в ПД 129, наталкивают на предположение, что эта цитата вымышленная, по крайней мере в ее окончательном афористическом виде. Бессмысленно рассуждать, существовало ли когда-нибудь цитируемое «частное письмо», а если существовало, то кто был его автором, но для любителей искать действительных прототипов вымышленных героев и «реальную жизнь» на ведущих в никуда дорогах искусства я приготовил сжатое, сухое исследование в комментарии к гл. 1, XLVI, 5–7. Мысль снабдить легкомысленную историю эпиграфом философского толка явно позаимствована у Байрона. К первым двум песням «Паломничества Чайльд Гарольда» (London, 1812) Байрон послал Р. Ч. Далласу (16 сентября 1811 г.) эпиграф, начинающийся словами: «L'univers est une espèce de livre, dont on n'a lu que la premièr page» [63] из «Космополита» Луи Шарля Фужере де Монброна (London, 1750, р. 1) [64] . Туманные эпиграфы были особенно любимы английскими авторами; такой эпиграф вызывал интроспективные ассоциации, и тут, конечно, должно вспомнить Вальтера Скотта, самого талантливого сочинителя эпиграфов. Слово «pétri» в переносном смысле («охваченный», «погруженный», «состоящий из») довольно часто употреблялось французскими авторами, которым...

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Часть текста: stoves with varicolored tiles. All this today is obsolete, I really don't know why; and anyway it was a matter 12 of very little moment to my friend, since he yawned equally amidst modish and olden halls. III He settled in that chamber where the rural old-timer had for forty years or so squabbled with his housekeeper, 4 looked through the window, and squashed flies. It all was plain: a floor of oak, two cupboards, a table, a divan of down, and not an ink speck anywhere. Onegin 8 opened the cupboards; found in one a notebook of expenses and in the other a whole array of fruit liqueurs, pitchers of eau-de-pomme, 12 and the calendar for eighteen-eight: having a lot to do, the old man never looked into any other books. IV Alone midst his possessions, merely to while away the time, at first conceived the plan our Eugene 4 of instituting a new system. In his backwoods a solitary sage, the ancient corvée 's yoke by the light quitrent he replaced; 8 the muzhik blessed fate, while in his corner went into a huff, therein perceiving dreadful harm, his thrifty neighbor. 12...

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Часть текста: Let us, however, begin this song in keeping with the happenings of these times and not with the contriving of Boyan. For he, vatic Boyan if he wished to make a laud for one, ranged in thought [like the nightingale] over the tree; like the gray wolf across land; like the smoky eagle up to the clouds. For as he recalled, said he, the feuds of initial times, "He set ten falcons upon a flock of swans, and the one first overtaken, sang a song first"- to Yaroslav of yore, and to brave Mstislav who slew Rededya before the Kasog troops, and to fair Roman son of Svyatoslav. To be sure, brothers, Boyan did not [really] set ten falcons upon a flock of swans: his own vatic fingers he laid on the live strings, which then twanged out by themselves a paean to princes. So let us begin, brothers, this tale- from Vladimir of yore to nowadays Igor. who girded his mind with fortitude, and sharpened his heart with manliness; [thus] imbued with the spirit of arms, he led his brave troops against the Kuman land in the name of the Russian land. Boyan apostrophized O Boyan, nigh tingale of the times of old! If you were to trill [your praise of] these troops, while hopping, nightingale, over the tre e of thought; [if you were] flying in mind up to the clouds; [if] weaving paeans around these times, [you were]...

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Часть текста: Бойд. Владимир Набоков: американские годы Глава 15. "Евгений Онегин" ГЛАВА 15 «Евгений Онегин» Мой метод, возможно, неверен, но это метод. «Ответ моим критикам» …измученный, неловкий буквалист, отчаянно нащупывающий смутное слово, которое удовлетворило бы страстное стремление к точности, и накапливающий по ходу дела множество сведений, заставляющих приверженцев красивого камуфляжа лишь трепетать или глумиться. «Ответ моим критикам» 1 I «Меня будут помнить благодаря „Лолите“ и моему труду о „Евгении Онегине“», — предсказал в 1966 году Набоков 2 . По объему и затраченным усилиям его вызвавший столько споров перевод пушкинского шедевра и тысяча двести страниц сопроводительного комментария обращают остальные его работы в карликов. На то, чтобы сделать Пушкина доступным англоязычному читателю, он потратил столько же времени, сколько ушло на создание всех трех собственных его англоязычных шедевров: «Лолиты», «Бледного огня» и «Ады». Стоила ли затея подобных усилий?...

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Часть текста: tourist accommodation I soon grew to prefer the Functional Motelclean, neat, safe nooks, ideal places for sleep, argument, reconciliation, insatiable illicit love. At first, in my dread of arousing suspicion, I would eagerly pay for both sections of one double unit, each containing a double bed. I wondered what type of foursome this arrangement was even intended for, since only a pharisaic parody of privacy could be attained by means of the incomplete partition dividing the cabin or room into two communicating love nests. By and by, the very possibilities that such honest promiscuity suggested (two young couples merrily swapping mates or a child shamming sleep to earwitness primal sonorities) made me bolder, and every now and then I would take a bed-and-cot or twin-bed cabin, a prison cell or paradise, with yellow window shades pulled down to create a morning illusion of Venice and sunshine when actually it was Pennsylvania and rain. We came to know nous connmes, to use a Flaubertian intonationthe stone cottages under enormous Chateaubriandesque trees, the brick unit, the adobe unit, the stucco...

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Часть текста: rash curiosity; she surveyed it with a shrug of amused distaste; and it seemed to me now that she was ready to turn away from it with something akin to plain repulsion. Never did she vibrate under my touch, and a strident “what d’you think you are doing?” was all I got for my pains. To the wonderland I had to offer, my fool preferred the corniest movies, the most cloying fudge. To think that between a Hamburger and a Humburger, she wouldinvariably, with icy precisionplump for the former. There is nothing more atrociously cruel than an adored child. Did I mention the name of that milk bar I visited a moment ago? It was, of all things, The Frigid Queen. Smiling a little 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...

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Часть текста: 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 of warmth, of flowers, of labors,...

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Часть текста: month; when Monsieur wants to get the whole damned thing over with as quickly as possible, and Madame gives in with a tolerant smile; then, my reader, the wedding is generally a “quiet” affair. The bride may dispense with a tiara of orange blossoms securing her finger-tip veil, nor does she carry a white orchid in a prayer book. The bride’s little daughter might have added to the ceremonies uniting H. and H. a touch of vivid vermeil; but I knew I would not dare be too tender with cornered Lolita yet, and therefore agreed it was not worth while tearing the child away from her beloved Camp Q. My soi-disant passionate and lonely Charlotte was in everyday life matter-of-fact and gregarious. Moreover, I discovered that although she could not 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...

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Часть текста: you with a gage 4 that would be worthier of you — be worthier of a fine soul full of a holy dream, of live and limpid poetry, 8 of high thoughts and simplicity. But so be it. With partial hand take this collection of pied chapters: half droll, half sad, 12 plain-folk, ideal, the careless fruit of my amusements, insomnias, light inspirations, unripe and withered years, 16 the intellect's cold observations, and the heart's sorrowful remarks. CHAPTER ONE To live it hurries and to feel it hastes. Prince Vyazemski I “My uncle has most honest principles: when he was taken gravely ill, he forced one to respect him 4 and nothing better could invent. To others his example is a lesson; but, good God, what a bore to sit by a sick person day and night, not stirring 8 a step away! What base perfidiousness to entertain one half-alive, adjust for him his pillows, 12 sadly serve him his medicine, sigh — and think inwardly when will the devil take you?” II Thus a young scapegrace thought as with post horses in the dust he flew, by the most ...

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Часть текста: 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, in Tatiana's and Olga's rooms, are wrapped in sleep. Alone, sadly by Dian's beam 12 illumined at the window, poor Tatiana is not asleep and gazes out on the dark field. III With his unlooked-for apparition, the momentary softness of his eyes, and odd conduct with Olga, 4 to the depth of her soul she's penetrated. She is quite unable to understand him. Jealous anguish perturbs her, 8 as if a cold hand pressed her heart; as if beneath her an abyss yawned black and dinned.... “I shall perish,” says Tanya, 12 “but perishing from him is sweet. I murmur not: why murmur? He cannot give me happiness.” IV Forward, forward, my story! A new persona claims us. Five versts from Krasnogórie, 4 Lenski's estate, there lives and thrives up to the present time in philosophical reclusion Zarétski, formerly a brawler, 8 the hetman of a gaming gang, chieftain of rakehells, pothouse tribune, but now a kind and simple bachelor paterfamilias, 12 a steadfast friend, a peaceable landowner, and even an honorable man: thus does our age correct itself! V Time was, the monde 's obsequious voice used to extol his wicked pluck: he, it is true, could from a pistol 4 at twelve yards hit an ace, and, furthermore, in battle too once, in real rapture, he distinguished himself by toppling from his Kalmuk steed 8 boldly into the mud, swine...

Поиск по творчеству и критикеCлово "JUDGMENT"

Поиск по творчеству и критике
Cлово "JUDGMENT"