I could isolate, consciously, little. Everything seemed blurred, yellow-clouded, yielding nothing tangible. Her inept acrostics, maudlin evasions, theopathies - every recollection formed ripples of mysterious meaning. Everything seemed yellowly blurred, illusive, lost.
Vladimir Vladimirovich Nabokov (1968). “Nabokov's congeries”
![I could isolate, consciously, little. Everything seemed blurred, yellow-clouded, yielding nothing tangible. Her inept acrostics, maudlin evasions, theopathies - every recollection formed ripples of mysterious meaning.](http://cdn.quoteddaily.com/images/vladimir-nabokov/i-could-isolate-consciously-little-everything-seemed-blurred-yellow-clouded-yielding-nothing-tangible-her-inept-acrostics-maudlin-evasions-theopathies-.jpg)