Портрет Доріана Грея
Preface
Iknowthatperfectlywell. Indeed,Ishouldbesorrytolooklikehim. Youshrugyourshoulders? Iamtellingyouthetruth. Thereisafatalityaboutallphysicalandintellectualdistinction,thesortoffatality thatseemstodogthroughhistorythefalteringstepsofkings. Itisbetternottobedifferentfromone’sfellows. Theuglyandthestupidhavethebestofitinthisworld. Theycansitattheireaseandgapeattheplay. Iftheyknownothingofvictory,theyareatleastsparedtheknowledgeofdefeat. Theyliveasweallshouldlive,undisturbed,indifferent,andwithoutdisquiet. Theyneitherbringruinuponothers,noreverreceiveitfromalienhands. Yourrankandwealth,Harry;mybrains,suchastheyare—myart,whateveritmaybeworth;DorianGray’sgoodlooks—weshallallsufferforwhatthegodshavegivenus,sufferterribly."
"DorianGray?Isthathisname?"askedLordHenry,walkingacrossthestudiotowardsBasilHallward.
"Yes,thatishisname.Ididn’tintendtotellittoyou."
"Butwhynot?"
"Oh,Ican’texplain. WhenIlikepeopleimmenselyInevertelltheirnamestoanyone.Itislikesurrenderingapartofthem. Ihavegrowntolovesecrecy.Itseemstobetheonethingthatcanmakemodernlifemysteriousormarvelloustous. Thecommonestthingisdelightfulifoneonlyhidesit. WhenIleavetownnowInevertellmypeoplewhereIamgoing.IfIdid,Iwouldloseallmypleasure. Itisasillyhabit,Idaresay,butsomehowitseemstobringagreatdealofromanceintoone’slife. Isupposeyouthinkmeawfullyfoolishaboutit?"
