Saturday, September 03, 2011

One must wear one’s vices like a royal mantle, with poise.

Like an aureole that one is unaware of, that one pretends not to perceive.
It is only nature entirely given over to vice whose contours do not grow blurred in the hyaline mire of the atmosphere.

Beauty is a marvellous vice – of form.
César Moro – Amour à mort

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