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144 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1995
"I love this word decadence, all shimmering in purple and gold. It suggests the subtle thoughts of ultimate civilization, a high literary culture, a soul capable of intense pleasures. It throws off bursts of fire and the sparkle of precious stones. It is redolent of the rouge of courtesans, the games of the circus, the panting of the gladiators, the spring of wild beasts, the consuming in flames of races exhausted by their capacity for sensation, as the tramp of an invading army sounds". - Paul Verlaine
“… a man proud, moody, cynical, with defiance on his brow, and misery in his heart, a scorner of his kind, implacable in revenge, yet capable of deep and strong affection.”
“The old house had lain empty for many years. Like an aged Dickensian spinster, it seemed to have relinquished any claim to the present, and by simply doing nothing had become an anachronism.”
“What to do, what to do? Flee now, or stay and have all the evils of body and circumstances turn to bare slavering teeth on his flesh and sinews?”
…“The immortality of those canvases contrasted so sharply with the transience of his fading youth. How he longed to escape to another time, another place, where the amaranth of his lost adolescence would bloom once again.”
“He went out to observe; often he went out simply to make his superior presence known. … but like those addicted to the Gothic novel, he sought the sublime experience through terror.”
“The cool green grass beneath my feet shone, as each heavy blade stood crowned with a heavy dewdrop suspended in eternal animation like a glutinous gem”