edwardhenry

July 6, 2006

from Pale Fire

Filed under: books, literature — ted @ 7:58 pm

Just finished reading Nabokov’s Pale Fire. Not only was it a masterpiece, but it also contained this passage:

We are absurdly accustomed to the miracle of a few written signs being able to contain immortal imagery, involutions of thought, new worlds with live people, speaking, weeping, laughing. We take it for granted so simply that in a sense, by the very act of brutish routine acceptance, we undo the work of the ages, the history of the gradual elaboration of poetical description and construction, from the treeman to Browning, from the caveman to Keats. What if we awake one day, all of us, and find ourselves utterly unable to read? I wish you gasp not only at what you read but at the miracle of its being readable…

Whew.

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