Rops , 1833 - 1898
"(...) Each time autumn arrives with its austere intoxications,
I suffer as if every hope that I carry within me and which
are the same as those that illuminated my twentieth year
were going to expire forever along with the dead leaves.
I am afraid of being old and of no longer being able to
inspire love in a woman, which is a true death for a man
of my nature and with my needs for madness of mind and body."
-- Letter from Félicien Rops to Louise Danse
Courtesy of: Musée
See Also: Fin
de Siecle - Félicien