Портрет Доріана Грея

           Theymakeonebelieveintherealityofthethingsweallplaywith,suchasromance,passion,andlove." 

           "Iwasterriblycrueltoher. Youforgetthat." 

           "Iamafraidthatwomenappreciatecruelty,downrightcruelty,morethananythingelse. Theyhavewonderfullyprimitiveinstincts. Wehaveemancipatedthem,buttheyremainslaveslookingfortheirmasters,allthesame. Theylovebeingdominated. Iamsureyouweresplendid. Ihaveneverseenyoureallyandabsolutelyangry,butIcanfancyhowdelightfulyoulooked. And,afterall,yousaidsomethingtomethedaybeforeyesterdaythatseemedtomeatthetimetobemerelyfanciful,butthatIseenowwasabsolutelytrue,anditholdsthekeytoeverything." 

           "Whatwasthat,Harry?" 

           "YousaidtomethatSibylVanerepresentedtoyoualltheheroinesofromance —thatshewasDesdemonaonenight,andOpheliatheother;thatifshediedasJuliet,shecametolifeasImogen." 

           "Shewillnevercometolifeagainnow,"mutteredthelad,buryinghisfaceinhishands. 

           "No,shewillnevercometolife. Shehasplayedherlastpart. Butyoumustthinkofthatlonelydeathinthetawdrydressing-roomsimplyasastrangeluridfragmentfromsomeJacobeantragedy,asawonderfulscenefromWebster,orFord,orCyrilTourneur. Thegirlneverreallylived,andsoshehasneverreallydied. Toyouatleastshewasalwaysadream,aphantomthatflittedthroughShakespeare’splaysandleftthemlovelierforitspresence,areedthroughwhichShakespeare’smusicsoundedricherandmorefullofjoy.