No longer was she merely the dancing-girl who extorts a cry of lust and concupiscence from an old man by the lascivious contortions of her body; who breaks the will, masters the mind of a King by the spectacle of her quivering bosoms, heaving belly and tossing thighs; she was now revealed in a sense as the symbolic incarnation of… — Joris-Karl Huysmans Copy Share
(Baudelaire) had descended to the bottom of the inexhaustible mine, had picked his way along abandoned or unexplored galleries, and had finally reached those districts of the soul where the monstrous vegetations of the sick mind flourish. There, near the breeding ground of intellectuals aberrations and disease of the mind - the mysterious tetanus, the burning fever of lust, the… — Joris-Karl Huysmans Copy Share
“He cared little for commonly experienced emotions, for everyday associations of ideas, now that the closing of his mind had grown more… — Joris-Karl Huysmans Copy Share Image
In this game he had acquired a great deal of muddled knowledge, more than one approximation and less than one certitude. And… — Joris-Karl Huysmans Copy Share Image
Immersed in solitude, he would dream or read far into the night. By protracted contemplation of the same thoughts, his mind grew… — Joris-Karl Huysmans Copy Share Image
Far from seeking to justify, as does the Church, the necessity of torments and afflictions, he cried, in his outraged pity: 'If a God… — Joris-Karl Huysmans Copy Share Image
No longer was she merely the dancing-girl who extorts a cry of lust and concupiscence from an old man by the lascivious contortions of her body; who breaks the will, masters the mind of a King by the spectacle of her quivering bosoms, heaving belly and tossing thighs; she was now revealed in a sense as the symbolic incarnation of… — Joris-Karl Huysmans Copy Share
Ah; but my courage fails me, and my heart is sick within me! —Lord, take pity on the Christian who doubts, on the skeptic… — Joris-Karl Huysmans Copy Share Image
“There is not one single invention of (Nature's), however subtle or impressive it may be thought to be, that the human spirit cannot create; no forest of Fontainebleu or moonlit scene that cannot be produced with a floodlit stage set; no waterfall that hydraulics cannot imitate so perfectly as to be indistinguishable from the original; no rock that papier-mâché cannot… — Joris-Karl Huysmans Copy Share
“Ah, when one has not the gift of rendering one's grief superbly and transforming it into literary or musical passages which weep magnificently, the… — Joris-Karl Huysmans Copy Share Image
“He wanted, in short, a work of art both for what it was in itself and for what it allowed him to bestow on it; he wanted to go along with it and on it, as if supported by a friend or carried by a vehicle, into a sphere where sublimated sensations would arouse within him an unexpected commotion, the… — Joris-Karl Huysmans Copy Share
(Baudelaire) had descended to the bottom of the inexhaustible mine, had picked his way along abandoned or unexplored galleries, and had finally reached those districts of the soul where the monstrous vegetations of the sick mind flourish. There, near the breeding ground of intellectuals aberrations and disease of the mind - the mysterious tetanus, the burning fever of lust, the… — Joris-Karl Huysmans Copy Share
“What he wanted was colours which would appear stronger and clearer in artificial light. He did not particularly care if they looked crude or insipid in daylight, for he lived most of his life at night, holding that night afforded greater intimacy and isolation and that the mind was truly roused and stimulated only by awareness of the dark; moreover… — Joris-Karl Huysmans Copy Share
I wish to confound all these people, to create a work of art of a supernatural realism and of a spiritualist naturalism. I wish… — Joris-Karl Huysmans Copy Share Image
“The Louis XIII style in perfumery, composed of the elements dear to that period - orris-powder, musk, civet and myrtle-water, already known by the name of angel-water - was scarcely adequate to express the cavalierish graces, the rather crude colours of the time which certain sonnets by Saint-Amand have preserved for us. Later on, with the aid of myrrh and… — Joris-Karl Huysmans Copy Share
