And what agony, thought Krug the thinker, to love so madly a little creature, formed in some mysterious fashion {even more mysterious to us than it had been to the very first thinkers in their pale olive gloves} by the fusion of two mysteries, or rather two sets of a trillion of mysteries each; formed by a fusion which is, at the same time, a matter of choice and a matter of chance and a matter of pure enchantment; thus formed and then permitted to accumulate trillions of its own mysteries; the whole suffused with consciousness, which is the only real thing in the world and the greatest mystery of all.
( Vladimir Nabokov )
[ Bend Sinister ]
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