Портрет Доріана Грея

           Resistit,andyoursoulgrowssickwithlongingforthethingsithasforbiddentoitself,withdesireforwhatitsmonstrouslawshavemademonstrousandunlawful. Ithasbeensaidthatthegreateventsoftheworldtakeplaceinthebrain. Itisinthebrain,andthebrainonly,thatthegreatsinsoftheworldtakeplacealso. You,Mr.Gray,youyourself,withyourrose-redyouthandyourrose-whiteboyhood, youhavehadpassionsthathavemadeyouafraid,thoughtsthathavefilledyouwithterror,day-dreamsandsleepingdreamswhosemerememorymightstainyourcheekwithshame——" 

           "Stop!"falteredDorianGray,"stop!youbewilderme. Idon’tknowwhattosay.Thereissomeanswertoyou,butIcannotfindit. Don’tspeak.Letmethink.Or,rather,letmetrynottothink." 

           Fornearlytenminuteshestoodthere,motionless,withpartedlips,andeyesstrangelybright. Hewasdimlyconsciousthatentirelyfreshinfluenceswereatworkwithinhim. Yettheyseemedtohimtohavecomereallyfromhimself. ThefewwordsthatBasil’sfriendhadsaidtohim—wordsspokenbychance,nodoubt,andwithwilfulparadoxinthem—hadtouchedsomesecretchordthathadneverbeentouchedbefore, butthathefeltwasnowvibratingandthrobbingtocuriouspulses. 

           Musichadstirredhimlikethat. Musichadtroubledhimmanytimes.Butmusicwasnotarticulate. Itwasnotanewworld,butratheranotherchaos,thatitcreatedinus.Words!Merewords! Howterribletheywere!Howclear,andvivid,andcruel!Onecouldnotescapefromthem. Andyetwhatasubtlemagictherewasinthem!Theyseemedtobeabletogiveaplasticformtoformlessthings,andtohaveamusicoftheirownassweetasthatofvioloroflute. Merewords!Wasthereanythingsorealaswords? 

           Yes;therehadbeenthingsinhisboyhoodthathehadnotunderstood.Heunderstoodthemnow. Lifesuddenlybecamefiery-colouredtohim. Itseemedtohimthathehadbeenwalkinginfire.Whyhadhenotknownit?