Lolita, the light of my life, fire of my loins. My sin, my soul.

From Goodreads:  “Humbert Humbert – scholar, aesthete and romantic – has fallen completely and utterly in love with Lolita Haze, his landlady’s gum-snapping, silky skinned twelve-year-old daughter. Reluctantly agreeing to marry Mrs Haze just to be close to Lolita, Humbert suffers greatly in the pursuit of romance; but when Lo herself starts looking for attention elsewhere, he will carry her off on a desperate cross-country misadventure, all in the name of Love. Hilarious, flamboyant, heart-breaking and full of ingenious word play, Lolita is an immaculate, unforgettable masterpiece of obsession, delusion and lust”.


Sexual relations between a 40 year old man and a 12 year old girl is a crime and an immoral act. Whether Lolita, consented the man or was deliberately seducing him at one point or another, humbert could and will still be imprisoned. He planned everything in place, set up the scenarios that would enable him to finally conquering and owning the little Lolita. Even with her consent, he staged the perfect fear for Lolita that would threaten her to even speak of it to someone or anyone.

Nymphet – a sexually mature young girl.

Paedophilia – sexual attraction to children

Hebephilia – strong and persistent sexual interest in pubescent individuals typically around 10 – 14 years of age.

Ian from Goodreads: The story was a tragedy because humbert only realized that he genuinely loved Dolores by conventional standards when it was too late. That might be so. But humbert only had himself to blame. He was a victim of his own hand, and his tragedy was nothing compared to what made Dolores endure, so that, he too may have his ‘lolita’.

  • Let me feed on her open mouth, with a generosity that was ready to offer her everything, ,y heart, my throat, my entrails, I gave her to gold in her awkward fist the sceptre of my passion.
  • We loved each other with a premature love, marked by a fierceness that so often destroys adult lives.
  • The vacuum of my soul manage to suck in every detail of her bright beauty.
  • Every moment she made in the dappled sun plucked at the most secret and sensitive chord of my abject body.
  • Why does the way she walks – a child, mind you, a mere child! – excite me so abominably!
  • I would hold her against me three times a day, everyday.
  • Heart, Head, Everything – Lolita, Lolita, Lolita, Lolita till the age is full, printer.


And I looked and looked at her, and knew as clearly as I know I am to die, that I loved her more than anything I had ever seen o imagined on earth, or hoped for anywhere else. She was only the faint violet whiff and dead leaf echo of the nymphet I had rolled myself upon.

I insist the world to know how much I loved my Lolita, this Lolita, pale and polluted and big with another man’s child, but still gray eyed, still looty eyed, still my carmencita.



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