Портрет Доріана Грея

           Heflunghimselfdownonthesofa,andturnedawayhisface. "Youhavekilledmylove,"hemuttered. 

           Shelookedathiminwonder,andlaughed.Hemadenoanswer. Shecameacrosstohim,andwithherlittlefingersstrokedhishair. Shekneltdownandpressedhishandstoherlips. Hedrewthemaway,andashudderranthroughhim. 

           Thenheleapedup,andwenttothedoor. "Yes,"hecried,"youhavekilledmylove.Youusedtostirmyimagination. Nowyoudon’tevenstirmycuriosity.Yousimplyproducenoeffect. Ilovedyoubecauseyouweremarvellous,becauseyouhadgeniusandintellect,becauseyourealisedthedreamsofgreatpoetsandgaveshapeandsubstancetotheshadowsofart. Youhavethrownitallaway.Youareshallowandstupid.MyGod!howmadIwastoloveyou! WhatafoolIhavebeen!Youarenothingtomenow.Iwillneverseeyouagain.Iwillneverthinkofyou.Iwillnevermentionyourname. Youdon’tknowwhatyouweretome,once.Why,once....Oh,Ican’tbeartothinkofit!IwishIhadneverlaideyesuponyou! Youhavespoiledtheromanceofmylife.Howlittleyoucanknowoflove,ifyousayitmarsyourart! Withoutyourartyouarenothing.Iwouldhavemadeyoufamous,splendid,magnificent. Theworldwouldhaveworshippedyou,andyouwouldhavebornemyname. Whatareyounow?Athird-rateactresswithaprettyface." 

           Thegirlgrewwhite,andtrembled. Sheclenchedherhandstogether,andhervoiceseemedtocatchinherthroat. "Youarenotserious,Dorian?"shemurmured."Youareacting." 

           "Acting!Ileavethattoyou.Youdoitsowell,"heansweredbitterly.