"Would you know the single craving of my blood - the craving that burns in me more fiercely than hunger in a starving beast of prey - the one desire, to gratify which, I would desparately dare and defy all men? Listen then!
A nectar, bitter-sweet - like the last kiss on the lips of a discarded mistress - is the secret charm of my existence; green as the moon's light on a forest pool it glimmers in my glass; eagerly I quaff it, and, as I drink, I dream.
Not of foolish things. No! Not of dull saints and smooth landscapes in heaven and wearisome prudish maids; but of glittering bacchantes, nude nymphs in a dance of hell, flashing torrents and dazzling mountain-peaks, of storm and terror, of lightning and rain, of horses galloping, of flags flying, of armies marching, of haste and uproar and confusion and death!"
"A corner draft fluttered the flame, and the white fever of temptation, upswept its angel wings that cast a cruciform shadow..."
despite my best efforts to restrain it, I fear my naughty side is coming out.
A nectar, bitter-sweet - like the last kiss on the lips of a discarded mistress - is the secret charm of my existence; green as the moon's light on a forest pool it glimmers in my glass; eagerly I quaff it, and, as I drink, I dream.
Not of foolish things. No! Not of dull saints and smooth landscapes in heaven and wearisome prudish maids; but of glittering bacchantes, nude nymphs in a dance of hell, flashing torrents and dazzling mountain-peaks, of storm and terror, of lightning and rain, of horses galloping, of flags flying, of armies marching, of haste and uproar and confusion and death!"
"A corner draft fluttered the flame, and the white fever of temptation, upswept its angel wings that cast a cruciform shadow..."
despite my best efforts to restrain it, I fear my naughty side is coming out.