41
" Он спрашивает: "Вы анархист?" -- "Я отвечаю, -- здесь Пнин прерывает свой рассказ, чтобы предаться уютному беззвучному веселью. -- Первое, что мы понимаем под "анархизмом"? Анархизм практический, метафизический, теоретический, абстрактический, индивидуальный, социальный, мистикальный? Когда я был молод, -- так я говорю, -- это все для меня имело важнейшн значейшн. Таким образом, мы имели интереснейшн дискушн, вследствие которой я проводил две цельные недели на Эллис-Айленд", -- брюшко рассказчика начинает сотрясаться; оно сотрясается; рассказчик корчится от смеха. "
― Vladimir Nabokov , Pnin
51
" While endowed with the morose temper of genius, he [Lakes, Arts Professor] lacked originality and was aware of that lack; his own paintings always seemed beautifully clever imitations, although one could never quite tell whose manner he mimicked. His profound knowledge of innumerable techniques, his indifference to 'schools' and 'trends', his detestation of quacks, his conviction that there was no difference whatever between a genteel aquarelle of yesterday and, say, conventional neoplasticism or banal non-objectivism of today, and that nothing but individual talent mattered--these views made of him an unusual teacher. St Bart's was not particularly pleased either with Lake's methods or with their results, but kept him on because it was fashionable to have at least one distinguished freak on the staff. Among the many exhilarating things Lake taught was that the order of the solar spectrum is not a closed
circle but a spiral of tints from cadmium red and oranges through a strontian yellow and a pale paradisal green to cobalt blues and violets, at which point the sequence does not grade into red again but passes into another spiral, which starts with a kind of lavender grey and goes on to Cinderella shades transcending human perception. He taught that there is no such thing as the Ashcan School or the Cache Cache School or the Cancan School. That the work of art created with string, stamps, a Leftist newspaper, and the droppings of doves is based on a series of dreary platitudes. That there is nothing more banal and more bourgeois than paranoia. That Dali is really Norman Rockwell's twin brother kidnapped by gipsies in babyhood. That Van Gogh is second-rate and Picasso supreme, despite his commercial foibles; and that if Degas could immortalize a calèche, why could not Victor Wind do the same to a motor car? "
― Vladimir Nabokov , Pnin
58
" And since the exact form of her death had not been recorded, Mira kept dying a great number of deaths in one’s mind, and undergoing a great number of resurrections, only to die again and again, led away by a trained nurse, inoculated with filth, tetanus bacilli, broken glass, gassed in a sham shower-bath with prussic acid, burned alive in a pit on a gasoline-soaked pile of beechwood. "
― Vladimir Nabokov , Pnin