casadelpoetatragicogplus: Whenever the pain becomes too much, I saddle my horse and disappear in the forest… silent as desire, silent as myself. For I am not the cheerful gentleman with whom you are acquainted. Within this body is imprisoned a soul like a half-starved tiger in an iron cage, bellowing out its dreadful passins. All men seem mean and pretty to me, ingloriously lewd, travelling salesmen with their second-rate eroticism!— Félicien RopsPaul Mathey -  Portrait de Rops

casadelpoetatragicogplus:

Whenever the pain becomes too much, I saddle my horse and disappear in the forest… silent as desire, silent as myself. For I am not the cheerful gentleman with whom you are acquainted. Within this body is imprisoned a soul like a half-starved tiger in an iron cage, bellowing out its dreadful passins. All men seem mean and pretty to me, ingloriously lewd, travelling salesmen with their second-rate eroticism!
— Félicien Rops

Paul Mathey -  Portrait de Rops