Часть текста: imaginaire. Tiré d'une lettre particulière Not thinking to amuse the haughty world, having grown fond of friendship's heed, I wish I could present 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 lofty will of Zeus 4 the heir of all his kin. Friends of Lyudmila and Ruslan! The hero of my novel, without preambles, forthwith, 8 I'd like to have you meet: Onegin, a good pal of mine, was born...

2. Eugene Onegin. A Novel in Verse by Aleksandr Pushkin. Chapter eight

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Часть текста: her; the first success provided us with wings; the aged Derzhavin noticed us — and blessed us 4 as he descended to the grave. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 8 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 12 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . III And I, setting myself for law only the arbitrary will of passions, sharing emotions with the crowd, 4 I led my frisky Muse into the hubbub of feasts and turbulent discussions — the terror of midnight patrols; and to them, in mad feasts, 8 she brought her gifts, and like a little bacchante frisked, over the bowl sang for the guests; and the young people of past days 12 would turbulently dangle after her; and I was proud 'mong friends of my volatile mistress. IV But I dropped out of their alliance — and fled afar... she followed me. How often the caressive Muse 4 for me would sweeten the mute way with the bewitchment...

3. Lolita. Part One. Chapters 18 - 22

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Часть текста: 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...

4. Lolita. Part One. Chapters 12 - 17

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Часть текста: life of pederosis; had visually possessed dappled nymphets in parks; had wedged my wary and bestial way into the hottest, most crowded 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 cook in Mrs. Haze’s family, come to stay in the house with Lolita and me, while Mrs. Haze, a career girl at heart, sought some suitable job in the nearest city. Mrs. Haze had seen the whole situation very clearly: the bespectacled, round-backed Herr Humbert coming with his Central-European trunks to gather dust in his corner behind a heap of old books; the...

5. Lolita. Part Two. Chapters 3 - 8

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Часть текста: 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 accordingly. A visit to a plausible cove on the Atlantic side was completely messed up by foul weather. A thick damp sky, muddy waves, a sense of boundless but somehow matter-of-fact mistwhat could be further removed from the crisp charm, the sapphire occasion and rosy...

6. Эссе о драматургии ("Playwriting", на английском языке)

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Часть текста: partly in typescript and partly in manuscript, replete with Nabokov's corrections, additions, deletions, occasional slips of the pen, and references to previous and subsequent installments of the course. I have limited myself to what editing seemed necessary for the presentation of the lectures in essay form. If Nabokov had been alive, he might perhaps have performed more radical surgery. He might also have added that the gruesome throes of realistic suicide he finds unacceptable onstage (in "The Tragedy of Tragedy") are now everyday fare on kiddies' TV, while "adult" entertainment has long since outdone all the goriness of the Grand Guignol. He might have observed that the aberrations of theatrical method wherein the illusion of a barrier between stage and audience is shattered - a phenomenon he considered "freakish" - are now commonplace: actors wander and mix; the audience is invited to participate; it is then applauded by the players in a curious reversal of roles made chic by Soviet performers ordered to emulate the mise-en-sce´ne of party congresses; and the term "happening"...

7. Eugene Onegin. A Novel in Verse by Aleksandr Pushkin. Chapter two

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Часть текста: Chapter two CHAPTER TWO O rus! Horace O Rus'! I The country place where Eugene moped was a charming nook; a friend of innocent delights 4 might have blessed heaven there. The manor house, secluded, screened from the winds by a hill, stood above a river; in the distance, 8 before it, freaked and flowered, lay meadows and golden grainfields; one could glimpse hamlets here and there; herds roamed the meadows; 12 and its dense coverts spread a huge neglected garden, the retreat of pensive dryads. II The venerable castle was built as castles should be built: excellent strong and comfortable 4 in the taste of sensible ancientry. Tall chambers everywhere, hangings of damask in the drawing room, portraits of grandsires on the walls, 8 and 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...

8. Комментарий к роману "Евгений Онегин". Глава седьмая. Пункты XXI - XXXI

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Часть текста: душу изливал 12 Онегин в дни свои младые: Дневник мечтаний и проказ, Кой что я выпишу для вас. Так и Антония в романе Нодье «Сбогар» (1818, см. коммент. к гл. 3, ХН, 11) после исчезновения Сбогара наталкивается на его записи, часть из которых сделана чернилами, часть — карандашом, а кое-какие — кровью. «Альбом Онегина» начинается сразу после строфы XXI в черновике (тетрадь 2371), содержащем на листе 7 строфу XXI, а на листе 7 об. — альтернативную XXII (после которой и идет «Альбом») {157} . В то время альбомы были в моде. Сравним хотя бы описание альбома Красавчика Бруммеля, сделанное капитаном Джессе («Brummell», vol. I, ch. II): «Углы и застежки его из чеканного позолоченного серебра, как на старинных молитвенниках, а переплет синего бархату… В нем ни много ни мало двести двадцать шесть стихотворений [тогдашних знаменитостей]… вписанных его собственной рукой». Альбом Онегина, с обложкой, также укрепленной по краям серебром, более, однако, похож на дневник, чем на простое собрание полюбившихся цитат. После того как Татьяна поняла — или решила, что поняла, — нечто в натуре Онегина, прочтя альбом или маргиналии в его книгах (строфы XXIII–XXIV), наш поэт сперва собирался оставить ее предаваться грустным размышлениям в пустынном замке, а сам хотел вновь заняться его бывшим обитателем (см. ниже, строфа XXV альтернативная). Альбом Онегина В беловой рукописи двенадцать частей. Нумерация (без сомнения, предварительная) авторская. Рукопись хранится в Публичной библиотеке им. Салтыкова-Щедрина в Ленинграде (ПБ 43) I Меня не любят и клевещут, В кругу...

9. Бабиков А. А.: Прочтение Набокова. Изыскания и материалы. «Искусства милая скудель». Оригинал Лауры

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Часть текста: может решиться уничтожить ее, как завещал отец, и что, возможно, ограничится публикацией нескольких фрагментов в своем переводе на итальянский. Владимир Набоков оставил своим близким – жене и сыну – очень трудное нравственное задание, да еще с contradictio in adjecto (следует из любви к нему исполнить его волю – уничтожить рукопись неоконченного романа, но сама любовь к его сочинениям не дает это сделать), и нет ничего удивительного в том, что принятию решения о публикации предшествовали многолетние раздумья и колебания. Прошло еще десять лет, прежде чем я узнал продолжение этой истории. Рукопись «Лауры» все еще не была уничтожена. Число исследователей, прочитавших ее, за это время мало‑помалу стало увеличиваться, и хотя никто из них не разглашал ее содержания, кое‑что стало известно – с фантастическими домыслами тех, кто карточек в руках не держал. Недосягаемая «Лаура» казалась мне важным и даже, быть может, ключевым логическим звеном в длинной цепочке умозаключений, без которого нельзя закончить выкладки и вывести искомое. В 1998 году я не мог и...

10. Интервью Набокова на английском языке. BBC-2, 1969 г.

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Часть текста: 4) some 40 were answered and recorded by me from written cards in Montreux. The Listener published the thing in an incomplete form on October 23 of that year. Printed here from my final typescript. You have said that you explored time's prison and have found no way out. Are you still exploring, and is it inevitably a solitary excursion, from which one returns to the solace of others? I'm a very poor speaker. I hope our audience won't mind my using notes. My exploration of time's prison as described in the first chapter of Speak, Memory was only a stylistic device meant to introduce my subject. Memory often presents a life broken into episodes, more or less perfectly recalled. Do you see any themes working through from one episode to another? Everyone can sort out convenient patterns of related themes in the past development of his life. Here again I had to provide pegs and echoes when furnishing my reception halls. Is the strongest tie between men this common captivity in time? Let us not generalize. The common captivity in time is felt differently by different people, and some people may not feel it at all. Generalizations are full of loopholes and traps. I know elderly men for whom "time" only means "timepiece." What distinguishes us from animals? Being aware of being aware of being. In other words, if I not only know that I am but also know that I know it, then I belong to the human species. All the rest follows-- the glory of thought,...

Поиск по творчеству и критикеCлово "PASSION"

Поиск по творчеству и критике
Cлово "PASSION"