Literature was not born the day when a boy crying “wolf, wolf” came running out of the Neanderthal valley with a big gray wolf at his heels; literature was born on the day when a boy came crying “wolf, wolf” and there was no wolf behind him.
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Vladimir Nabokov
![](https://thisiscommonsense.org/wp-content/uploads/2015/12/NabokovBOOKS.jpg)