I used to be Snow White, but I drifted. — Mae West
I used to be Snow White, but I drifted. — Mae West
I used to be Snow White, but I drifted. — Mae West
I used to be Snow White, but I drifted. — Mae West
I used to be Snow White, but I drifted. — Mae West
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I used to be Snow White, but I drifted.

— Mae West
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More “Decadence” Quotes

The conventional use of words and of narrative structure is deliberately subverted in decadent fiction; language deviate — Asti Hustvedt, The Decadent Reader: Fiction, Fantasy, and Perversion from Fin-de-Siècle France
It is precisely, if paradoxically, because reversal is in the service of repetition (so as to ensure, alongside its comp — Janet Beizer
Adornment, exoticism, affectation are all willed decadent strategies meant to pervert the texts they made. Decadent text — Asti Hustvedt, The Decadent Reader: Fiction, Fantasy, and Perversion from Fin-de-Siècle France
March 1898What a strange dream I had last night! I wandered in the warm streets of a port, in the low quarter of some Ba — Jean Lorrain, Monsieur De Phocas
The inartistic methods that we use to blunt anxiety and unartful expedients that we resort to in order to escape pain an — Kilroy J. Oldster, Dead Toad Scrolls
Two times twice now, I have been called arrogant, by the decadent.I'd rather be overly self confident, rather than overl — Justin K. McFarlane Beau
Thus spoke the Beauty and her voice had a cheerful ring, and her face was aflame with a great rejoicing. She finished he — Valery Bryusov, The Silver Age of Russian Culture: An Anthology
The exotic and the erotic ideals go hand in hand, and this fact also contributes another proof of a more or less obvious — Mario Praz, The Romantic Agony
On the third day Vera said:'I love your body because it is beautiful. But I do not know your soul. I do not know whether — Lydia Zinovieva-Annibal, The Silver Age of Russian Culture: An Anthology
Through silent alleys where dark shadows fleeted past them like forest beasts on the prowl; through bustling market-plac — Hume Nisbet, Gaslit Nightmares: Stories by Robert W. Chambers, Charles Dickens, Richard Marsh, and Others
Poverty fled, she who gives birth to virile men. — Marcus Annaeus Lucanus
The beauty of the twentieth century is the charm of the hospital, the grace of the cemetery, of consumption and emaciati — Jean Lorrain, Monsieur De Phocas