A Quote by Jean Lorrain

It is the sheer ugliness and banality of everyday life which turns my blood to ice and makes me cringe in terror. — © Jean Lorrain
It is the sheer ugliness and banality of everyday life which turns my blood to ice and makes me cringe in terror.
Things I've done in the past always make me cringe a bit. When I think back to being a Christian. Proselytising to people, that makes me cringe.
I like sex writing that makes me think, makes me cringe, makes me angry, makes me look at it in a new way.
I don't mind a little blood on the ice when it's a hockey rink, but I hate seeing blood on the ice when it's from baby seals.
I often think, no one wants to read this. No one wants to hear this. My own work makes me cringe sometimes, cringe in a "there's nothing I can do because it had to come out like this" kind of way.
Romance is the glamour which turns the dust of everyday life into a golden haze.
I think I'm writing for an intelligent stranger - you know, in my mind I can't remember who coined that phrase first. I don't want to write anything that makes me cringe, first of all. I cringe a lot - mostly when I hear popular music.
At times, my very own media makes me cringe, and occasionally out loud. By the way, nothing clears the head like an out-loud cringe.
There is ugliness of mass production and consumerism, the banality of advertising. Although it claims to do just the opposite, it's predicated on disempowering and effacing persons.
The odd thing about tradition is, the longer it's been going, the more people seem to take it seriously - as though sheer passage of time makes something which to begin with was just made up, turns it into what people believe as a fact.
When I was a teenager in Milwaukee in the 1980s, life was pretty boring, and I found myself riveted by the sheer melodrama of everyday life of the 1960s.
You said, 'I'm going to leave him because my love for you makes any other life a lie.' I've hidden these words in the lining of my coat. I take them out like a jewel thief when no-one's watching. They haven't faded. Nothing about you has faded. You are still the colour of my blood. You are my blood. When I look in the mirror it's not my own face I see. Your body is twice. Once you once me. Can I be sure which is which?
We live under continual threat of two equally fearful, but seemingly opposed destinies: unremitting banality and inconceivable terror. It is fantasy, served out in large rations by the popular arts, which allows most people to cope with these twin specters.
The same amount of pride which makes a man treat haughtily his inferiors, makes him cringe servilely; to those above him.
Henceforth I would have to cosent to combine two voices: the voice of banality (to say what everyone sees and knows) and the voice of singularity (to replenish such banality with all the élan of an emotion which belonged only to myself).
The role that blood plays in Christian iconography is huge - the washing of the blood, the shedding of blood, the blood of the cross, the crucifixion, the violence of that imagery. These are horrific, and yet they are at the center of the Christian faith. There is a place where beauty and terror merge, and it's at the cross.
Beauty is assailed from two directions - by the cult of ugliness in the arts, and by the cult of utility in everyday life.
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