“The other evening, in that cafe-cabaret in the Rue de la Fontaine, where I had run aground with Tramsel and Jocard, who… — Jean Lorrain Copy Share Image
“Masks! I see them everywhere. That dreadful vision of the other night - the deserted town with its masked corpses in every… — Jean Lorrain Copy Share Image
“But that woman is an encyclopedia! Of all vices, ancient and modern, and terribly interesting to leaf through! ” — Jean Lorrain Copy Share Image
“...the presence of others has become even more intolerable to me, their conversation most of all. Oh, how it all annoys and exasperates me:… — Jean Lorrain Copy Share Image
“The beauty of the twentieth century is the charm of the hospital, the grace of the cemetery, of consumption and emaciation. I admit that… — Jean Lorrain Copy Share Image
“His fame as an artist requires very tender care. Look what a mask of diplomacy is painstakingly formed by the whole of that fine… — Jean Lorrain Copy Share Image
“A strange girl, all phosphorous and cantharides, burning with every desire! And burning with every vice!” — Jean Lorrain Copy Share Image
“There were charming ones as well as terrible ones, that I must admit. The painter was particularly entranced by Japanese masks: warriors', actors' and… — Jean Lorrain Copy Share Image
“At this point, the sequence of my memories is disrupted. I sank into a chaos of brief, incoherent and bizarre hallucinations, in which the… — Jean Lorrain Copy Share Image
“The ring which you are holding, my friend, is identical to that one. I had it cut according to the model of the king's… — Jean Lorrain Copy Share Image
The fancies that take their monstrous birth from the spinelessness and boredom of usurped wealth bring in their wake every defect ... and though… — Jean Lorrain Copy Share Image
“The Marquis de V... - whose falsetto voice and little watery eyes I have always detested - was saying to me with a wicked… — Jean Lorrain Copy Share Image
Her vice takes hold of her again, but she still refrains until some moment when, gnawed by some hideous caprice, she comes aground like… — Jean Lorrain Copy Share Image
