“Eighty years later he could still recall with the young pang of the original joy his falling in love with Ada. At ninety-four he liked retracing that first amorous summer not as a dream he had just had but as a recapitulation of consciousness to sustain him in the small gray hours between shallow sl…”— Vladimir Nabokov, amazon.com
“Lux's gyrations on the roof so long ago; and even now, if we were to be honest with ourselves, we would have to admit that it is always that pale wraith we make love to, always her feet snagged in the gutter, always her single blooming hand steadying itself against the chimney, no matter what our pr…”— Jeffrey Eugenides, amazon.com