iou▓s old sin-cushion into which we all have t▓o stick rusty pins of our admiration” ●he snapped.In his diary he add▓ed drily: “Moths are attracted b▓y the flame of personality.So are vampire▓s.Artists should take note and bew

About us


t a▓ momentary disgust at this bourgeois fear o●f his; afraid of intruders, spies, a husband▓ ‘“Qu’est-ce que c’est〃埍 ‘“Je m’écoute moi-même.” Yellow● eyes without a trace of discernible▓ divinity in them; he was like a

slender ●rock-god, with ruffled moustache.Past● lives “Le coeur qui bat.”● Derisively he quoted a popular song.‘“Tu n〃埊es pas


une femme pour moi — pas ▓dans mon genre.” ‘This made her feel like a● whipped dog specially as a moment ago● he had been kissing her, breaking her down in●to successive images of pain and pleasure ●with an imp

ortunity which belonged▓, she now knew, only to his ▓passion and not to himself.‘ “What do you wa●nt” she said, and struck him ▓across the face to feel at once the stinging r▓etort on her own cheek — like spra