And (.'/ere were times when I knew how you felt Jn d i t was a hell to know it, my little one Lolita. <...> I recall certain moments, let us call them icebergs in paradise, when after having had my fill of her . <...> . I would gather her in my arms with, at last, a mute moan of human tenderness. . . and the tenderness would deepen to shame and despair, and I would lull and rock my lone light Lolita, and moan in her warm hair, and caress her at random, and mutely ask her blessing, and at the peak of this human agonized selfless tenderness (with my soul and ready to repent), all at once ironically, horribly, lust swell again — and "oh, no", Lolita would say with a sigh to heaven, and the next moment the tenderness and the azure — all would be shattered", (p. <...> Her head looked smaller . . . and her pale fleckled cheeks were hollowed, and her bare shins and arms had lost all their tan, so that the БИБЛИОГРАФИЯ little hairs showed. <...> Il was love at first sight, at last sight and every sight. . ." (p. <...> But while the blood still throbs through my writing hand, you are still as much part of blessed matter as I am, and I can still talk to you from here to Alaska. <...> That husband of yours, I hope, wil l always treat you well, because otherwise my specter shall come at him, like black smoke, like a <...>