The charm of horror only tempts the strong
Jean LorrainTag: horror supernatural
You see, the strangeness of my case is that now I no longer fear the invisible, I’m terrified by reality.
Jean LorrainTag: fear reality horror invisible
It is the sheer ugliness and banality of everyday life which turns my blood to ice and makes me cringe in terror.
Jean LorrainTag: life reality horror ugly terror banality
The fancies that take their monstrous birth from the spinelessness and boredom of usurped wealth bring in their wake every defect ... and though rich men's crimes escape the law, protected as they are by the cowardice of governments and people, Nature, more real than society, sets her anarchic example by abandoning the wretched time servers of Capital to the shame and madness of the worst aberrations.
Jean LorrainTag: rich wealth society nature decadence law cowardice government boredom wealthy
And then I recalled those mysterious stories about the waxworkers of the middle ages and the public reprobation attached to their trade. Did they not live in cellars, in the eternal twilight propitious for enchantments and apparitions? Their visionary art (who, more than they, evoked a truer image of life?) was closely related to that of magicians: bewitchments were carried out with wax figures, witch trials are full of them, and one particular legend haunted me above all, that of the modeler from Anspach, who slowly squeezed the soul and the life out of his model in order to animate his painted waxwork and then, having finished his work of art, awaited nightfall to go and bury the corpse in the ditch at the city walls.
Jean LorrainBut that woman is an encyclopedia!
Of all vices, ancient and modern, and terribly interesting to leaf through!
A strange girl, all phosphorous and cantharides, burning with every desire! And burning with every vice!
Jean LorrainHer vice takes hold of her again, but she still refrains until some moment when, gnawed by some hideous caprice, she comes aground like a mournful wreck ruined by lust, in the midst of her own banal, perfidious pollution.
Jean Lorrain(Priests) cheapjack merchants selling paradise
Jean LorrainBut this is till the same girl who once lived in the steppes, wild and indomitable. Even when she ceased to play in the falling snow, the snow continued to fall within her soul. She never sough lovers among the wealthy men and the crown princes who prostrated themselves before her; her heart, like her voice, remained faultless. The reputation, temperament and talent of the woman partook of exactly the same crystalline transparency and icy clarity. ("The Glass Of Blood")
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