Listen:
I am ideally happy. My happiness is a kind of challenge. As I wander along the
streets and the squares and the paths by the canal, absently sensing the lips
of dampness through my worn soles, I carry proudly my ineffable happiness. The
centuries will roll by, and schoolboys will yawn over the history of our
upheavals; everything will pass, but my happiness, dear, my happiness will
remain, in the moist reflection of a street lamp, in the cautious bend of stone
steps that descend into the canal's black waters, in the smiles of a dancing
couple, in everything with which God so generously surrounds human loneliness.
—Vladimir
Nabokov, Selected Letters, 1940-1977
image: Verona bridge
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