Портрет Дориана Грея

           Sincethen,hisworkwasthatcuriousmixtureofbadpaintingandgoodintentionsthatalwaysentitlesamantobecalledarepresentativeBritishartist. Didyouadvertiseforit? Youshould." 

           "Iforget,"saidDorian. "IsupposeIdid. ButIneverreallylikedit. IamsorryIsatforit. Thememoryofthethingishatefultome. Whydoyoutalkofit? Itusedtoremindmeofthosecuriouslinesinsomeplay—‘Hamlet,’Ithink—howdotheyrun?— 

           "‘Likethepaintingofasorrow, 

           Afacewithoutaheart.’ 

           Yes:thatiswhatitwaslike." 

           LordHenrylaughed. "Ifamantreatslifeartistically,hisbrainishisheart,"heanswered,sinkingintoanarm-chair. 

           DorianGrayshookhishead,andstrucksomesoftchordsonthepiano. "‘Likethepaintingofasorrow,’"herepeated,"‘afacewithoutaheart.’" 

           Theeldermanlaybackandlookedathimwithhalf-closedeyes. "Bytheway,Dorian,"hesaid,afterapause,"‘whatdoesitprofitamanifhegainthewholeworldandlose’—howdoesthequotationrun? —‘hisownsoul’?" 

           ThemusicjarredandDorianGraystarted,andstaredathisfriend. "Whydoyouaskmethat,Harry?" 

           "Mydearfellow,"saidLordHenry,elevatinghiseyebrowsinsurprise,"IaskedyoubecauseIthoughtyoumightbeabletogivemeananswer.Thatisall.