Портрет Доріана Грея

           Hallwardshookhishead. "Youdon’tunderstandwhatfriendshipis,Harry,"hemurmured—"orwhatenmityis,forthatmatter. Youlikeeveryone;thatistosay,youareindifferenttoeveryone." 

           "Howhorriblyunjustofyou!"criedLordHenry,tiltinghishatback,andlookingupatthelittleclouds that,likeravelledskeinsofglossywhitesilk,weredriftingacrossthehollowedturquoiseofthesummersky. "Yes;horriblyunjustofyou.Imakeagreatdifferencebetweenpeople. Ichoosemyfriendsfortheirgoodlooks,myacquaintancesfortheirgoodcharacters,andmyenemiesfortheirgoodintellects. Amancannotbetoocarefulinthechoiceofhisenemies.Ihavenotgotonewhoisafool.Theyareallmenofsomeintellectualpower,andconsequentlytheyallappreciateme. Isthatveryvainofme?Ithinkitisrathervain." 

           "Ishouldthinkitwas,Harry.ButaccordingtoyourcategoryImustbemerelyanacquaintance." 

           "MydearoldBasil,youaremuchmorethananacquaintance." 

           "Andmuchlessthanafriend.Asortofbrother,Isuppose?" 

           "Oh,brothers!Idon’tcareforbrothers. Myelderbrotherwon’tdie,andmyyoungerbrothersseemnevertodoanythingelse." 

           "Harry!"exclaimedHallward,frowning. 

           "Mydearfellow,Iamnotquiteserious.ButIcan’thelpdetestingmyrelations. Isupposeitcomesfromthefactthatnoneofuscanstandotherpeoplehavingthesamefaultsasourselves. IquitesympathisewiththerageoftheEnglishdemocracyagainstwhattheycallthevicesoftheupperorders.