Lolita

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Humbert:

She was "Lo", plain "Lo" in the morning...

standing four-feet-ten in one sock.

She was "Lola" in slacks, she was "Dolly" at school...

she was "Dolores" on the dotted line.

In my arms she was always...

Lolita.

Light of my life...

fire of my loins.

My sin... my soul.

Lolita...

But there might have been no Lolita at all...

had I not first met Annabel.

We were both fourteen.

Whatever happens to a boy during the summer he's fourteen...

can mark him for life.

That hotel you see, the Merano, that belonged to us.

She wanted to be a nurse.

I wanted to be a spy.

All at once, we were madly, hopelessly in love.

Four months later, she died of typhus.

The shock of her death froze something in me.

The child I loved was gone.

But I kept looking for her.

Long after I'd left my own childhood behind.

The poison was in the wound, you see...

and the wound wouldn't heal.

I probably should have joined the priesthood.

Instead, I accepted a teaching post at Beardsley College in America.

I had a summer free before the fall semester...

so I thought I'd finish the textbook I was working on.

A survey of French literature for American students.

I took my advance and went to live at the house

of some old friends of my late uncle's, the McCoos...

in the New England town of Ramsdale.

But on arriving, I found that it was no longer there.

(spokes chattering)

Humbert:

However, a friend of Mr. McCoo's wife...

a widow, Mrs. Charlotte Haze, agreed to accommodate me.

(barking)

(tires screeching)

Louise:

Goddamn dog!

(barking)

Louise:

One minute, something's burning.

Lord have mercy... Mrs. Haze'll be down in one.

(annoyed muttering)

Charlotte:

Is that Professor Humbert, Louise? Tell him I'll be down in one.

Louise:

She’ll be down in one.

Charlotte:

M’sieur Humbert.

Humbert:

Uh, yes...

Mrs. Haze, is it?

Charlotte:

Charlotte.

I am so pleased to make your acquaintance.

Frank McCoo told me all about your scholarly pursuits.

I myself just cherish the French tongue.

Humbert:

Um... I wonder, could I?

Charlotte:

Come in.

Harold and I, the late Mr. Haze, we simply adored Mexico.

The whole idea of a culture that sophisticated...

and we think of them as primitive.

I mean, look at us.

Humbert:

Indeed, yes.

Charlotte:

Upstairs... I and Lo have our rooms just there...

and this is your room.

Space for a desk, anything you want.

And at 20 dollars a month, you can't beat the price.

And here's the bathroom... bit of a mess.

And this is the kitchen.

Now if you have any special food needs, you just say.

I don't know if Ramsdale can provide foie gras, like you're used to.

Humbert:

What's that?

Charlotte:

A... timetable, for when I... I was hoping I wouldn't have to...

but I think I've got to go all the way back to New York.

Ah, I'm afraid you're not too favourably impressed.

No, it's... there's a Baudelaire conference...

This is not a neat household, I confess...

but I assure you you would be very comfortable here.

Very comfortable indeed.

Now, don't say no...

until you've seen the piazza.

Come.

Well, I call it the piazza.

It's so much work to keep it healthy and green.

A life's work.

That's my Lo.

And these are my :.

I love :
.

Lily's a nice name, don't you think?

Humbert:

Beautiful.

Charlotte:

Beautiful.

Humbert:

How much did you say the room was?

A normal man, given a group photograph of schoolgirls...

and asked to point out the loveliest one...

will not necessarily choose the nymphet among them.

You have to be an artist.

A madman, full of shame and melancholy, and despair...

in order to recognize the little deadly demon among the others.

She stands... unrecognized by them...

unconscious herself of her fantastic power.

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