Nabokov's one of my favorite prose writers, and I've read Lolita about six or seven times; I discovered the book when I was seventeen. What grabs me about it is not the much-ballyhooed transgressiveness (decadent old-world prof and twelve-year-old nymphet), which I pay less and less attention to each time; instead, it's what Updike was referring to when he famously said, "Nabokov writes prose the only way it should be written, that is, ecstatically."
Sometimes, when I'm struggling at the keyboard, and the words are congealing like oatmeal sludge on the screen, I shamelessly reach for one of the Nabokov paperbacks on the shelf. (I found the entire Vintage lot at a public library sale for fifty cents apiece a few years ago.) I spend a few minutes reading a randomly opened section, and curiously, the words start to flow a bit easier after I've put the book away. It's not like I'm cribbing phrases or nicking ideas — that would only come off as instantly ridiculous. Instead, that brief immersion suddenly seems to put me in a less-inhibited headspace. Or something. I haven't figured it out yet.
The more traditional aspects of the novel — plot, character development, and such — don't seem to interest Nabokov all that much. What he really loves is language, which he twirls about like the genius-magician that he is. (I'm not sure why I'm still talking about him in the present tense.)
So, I'm wondering: the writer(s) you return to over and over and over again? And why? Pray tell.