goonlibrary:

“I won’t hide it: I am so unused to the idea of people, well, understanding me - so unused to it that in the very first minutes of our meeting it seemed to me that this was a joke, a masquerade deception….There are just some things that are difficult to talk about - one brushes off their wondrous pollen by touching them with words….Yes, I need you, my fairy tale. For you are the only person I can talk to - about the hue of a cloud, about the singing of a thought, and about the fact that when I went out to work today and looked each sunflower in the face, they all smiled back at me with their seeds.”

— Letter from Vladimir Nabokov to Véra, Véra by Stacy Schiff