Портрет Доріана Грея

           ButIwasnotmovedabit. Ithoughthershallow. Suddenlysomethinghappenedthatmademeafraid. Ican’ttellyouwhatitwas,butitwasterrible. IsaidIwouldgobacktoher. IfeltIhaddonewrong. Andnowsheisdead. MyGod! myGod! Harry,whatshallIdo? Youdon’tknowthedangerIamin,andthereisnothingtokeepmestraight. Shewouldhavedonethatforme. Shehadnorighttokillherself. Itwasselfishofher." 

           "MydearDorian,"answeredLordHenry,takingacigarettefromhiscase, andproducingagold-lattenmatchbox,"theonlywayawomancaneverreformamanisbyboringhimsocompletelythathelosesallpossibleinterestinlife. Ifyouhadmarriedthisgirlyouwouldhavebeenwretched. Ofcourseyouwouldhavetreatedherkindly. Onecanalwaysbekindtopeopleaboutwhomonecaresnothing. Butshewouldhavesoonfoundoutthatyouwereabsolutelyindifferenttoher. Andwhenawomanfindsthatoutaboutherhusband,sheeitherbecomesdreadfullydowdy,orwearsverysmartbonnetsthatsomeotherwoman’shusbandhastopayfor. Isaynothingaboutthesocialmistake,whichwouldhavebeenabject,which,ofcourse,Iwouldnothaveallowed,butIassureyouthatinanycasethewholethingwouldhavebeenanabsolutefailure." 

           "Isupposeitwould,"mutteredthelad, walkingupanddowntheroom,andlookinghorriblypale. "ButIthoughtitwasmyduty. Itisnotmyfaultthatthisterribletragedyhaspreventedmydoingwhatwasright. Irememberyoursayingoncethatthereisafatalityaboutgoodresolutions—thattheyarealwaysmadetoolate. Minecertainlywere." 

           "Goodresolutionsareuselessattemptstointerferewithscientificlaws. Theiroriginispurevanity. Theirresultisabsolutelynil.