“Lolita, light of my life, fire of my loins. My sin, my soul. Lo. Lee. Ta. She was plain Lo, in the morning, standing four feet ten in one sock. She was Lola in slacks, Dolly at school. But in my arms she was always Lolita. There might have been no Lolita at all had I not loved, one summer, an initial girl-child. In a princedom by the sea. Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, exhibit number one is what the misinformed, simple, noble-winged seraphs, envied. Look at this tangle of thorns.”

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