“My Carmen," I said (I used to call her that sometimes) "we shall leave this raw sore town as soon as you get out of bed." "... Because, really," I continued, "there is no point in staying here." "There is no point in staying anywhere," said Lolita.”

“Lolita: Oh my Carmen, my little Carmen…Humbert: Charmin’ Carmen. Started garglin’Lolita: I remember those sultry nightsHumbert: Those pre-raphaelitesLolita: No, come on. And the stars and the cars and the bars and the barmen.Humbert: And the bars that sparkled and the cars that parkled…And the curs that barkled and the birds that larkled.Lolita: And oh my charmin, our dreadful fightsHumbert: Such dreadful blightsLolita: And the something town where arm in…arm, we went, and our final row, and the gun I killed you with, o my Carmen…the gun I am holding now”

“In spite of everything I loved you, and will go on loving you―on my knees, with my shoulders drawn back, showing my heels to the headsman and straining my goose neck―even then. And afterwards―perhaps most of all afterwards―I shall love you, and one day we shall have a real, all-embracing explanation, and then perhaps we shall somehow fit together, you and I, and turn ourselves in such a way that we form one pattern, and solve the puzzle: draw a line from point A to point B... without looking, or, without lifting the pencil... or in some other way... we shall connect the points, draw the line, and you and I shall form that unique design for which I yearn. If they do this kind of thing to me every morning, they will get me trained and I shall become quite wooden.”

“...we shall connect the points, draw the line, and you and I shall form that unique design for which I yearn. If they do this kind of thing to me every morning, they will get me trained and I shall become quite wooden.”

“and I looked and looked at her, and knew as clearly as I know I am to die, that I loved her more than anything I had ever seen or imagined on earth, or hoped for anywhere else. She was only the faint violet whiff and dead leaf echo of the nymphet I had rolled myself upon with such cries in the past; an echo on the brink of a russet ravine, with a far wood under a white sky, and brown leaves choking the brook, and one last cricket in the crisp weeds... but thank God it was not that echo alone that I worshipped. What I used to pamper among the tangled vines of my heart, mon grand pch radieux, had dwindled to its essence: sterile and selfish vice, all that I cancelled and cursed. You may jeer at me, and threaten to clear the court, but until I am gagged and halfthrottled, I will shout my poor truth. I insist the world know how much I loved my Lolita, this Lolita, pale and polluted, and big with another’s child, but still gray-eyed, still sooty-lashed, still auburn and almond, still Carmencita, still mine; Changeons de vie, ma Carmen, allons vivre quelque, part o nous ne serons jamais spars; Ohio? The wilds of Massachusetts? No matter, even if those eyes of hers would fade to myopic fish, and her nipples swell and crack, and her lovely young velvety delicate delta be tainted and torneven then I would go mad with tenderness at the mere sight of your dear wan face, at the mere sound of your raucous young voice, my Lolita.”

“Where the devil did you get her?""I beg your pardon?""I said: the weather is getting better.""Seems so.""Who's the lassie?""My daughter.""You lie - she's not.""I beg your pardon?""I said: July was hot.”

“Wanted, wanted: Dolores Haze.Hair: brown. Lips: scarlet.Age: five thousand three hundred days.Profession: none, or "starlet"Where are you hiding, Dolores Haze?Why are you hiding, darling?(I Talk in a daze, I walk in a mazeI cannot get out, said the starling).Where are you riding, Dolores Haze?What make is the magic carpet?Is a Cream Cougar the present craze?And where are you parked, my car pet?Who is your hero, Dolores Haze?Still one of those blue-capped star-men?Oh the balmy days and the palmy bays,And the cars, and the bars, my Carmen!Oh Dolores, that juke-box hurts!Are you still dancin', darlin'?(Both in worn levis, both in torn T-shirts,And I, in my corner, snarlin').Happy, happy is gnarled McFateTouring the States with a child wife,Plowing his Molly in every StateAmong the protected wild life.My Dolly, my folly! Her eyes were vair,And never closed when I kissed her.Know an old perfume called Soliel Vert?Are you from Paris, mister?L'autre soir un air froid d'opera m'alita;Son fele -- bien fol est qui s'y fie!Il neige, le decor s'ecroule, Lolita!Lolita, qu'ai-je fait de ta vie?Dying, dying, Lolita Haze,Of hate and remorse, I'm dying.And again my hairy fist I raise,And again I hear you crying.Officer, officer, there they go--In the rain, where that lighted store is!And her socks are white, and I love her so,And her name is Haze, Dolores.Officer, officer, there they are--Dolores Haze and her lover!Whip out your gun and follow that car.Now tumble out and take cover.Wanted, wanted: Dolores Haze.Her dream-gray gaze never flinches.Ninety pounds is all she weighsWith a height of sixty inches.My car is limping, Dolores Haze,And the last long lap is the hardest,And I shall be dumped where the weed decays,And the rest is rust and stardust.”