Портрет Доріана Грея

           "Wasthataparadox?"askedMr.Erskine. "Ididnotthinkso.Perhapsitwas.Well,thewayofparadoxesisthewayoftruth. TotestRealitywemustseeitonthetight-rope. WhentheVeritiesbecomeacrobatswecanjudgethem." 

           "Dearme!"saidLadyAgatha,"howyoumenargue!IamsureInevercanmakeoutwhatyouaretalkingabout. Oh!Harry,Iamquitevexedwithyou.WhydoyoutrytopersuadeourniceMr.DorianGraytogiveuptheEastEnd? Iassureyouhewouldbequiteinvaluable.Theywouldlovehisplaying." 

           "Iwanthimtoplaytome,"criedLordHenry,smiling,andhelookeddownthetableandcaughtabrightansweringglance. 

           "ButtheyaresounhappyinWhitechapel,"continuedLadyAgatha. 

           "Icansympathisewitheverything,exceptsuffering,"saidLordHenry,shrugginghisshoulders. "Icannotsympathisewiththat.Itistoougly,toohorrible,toodistressing.Thereissomethingterriblymorbidinthemodernsympathywithpain. Oneshouldsympathisewiththecolour,thebeauty,thejoyoflife.Thelesssaidaboutlife’ssoresthebetter." 

           "Still,theEastEndisaveryimportantproblem,"remarkedSirThomas,withagraveshakeofthehead. 

           "Quiteso,"answeredtheyounglord. "Itistheproblemofslavery,andwetrytosolveitbyamusingtheslaves." 

           Thepoliticianlookedathimkeenly. "Whatchangedoyoupropose,then?"heasked. 

           LordHenrylaughed. "Idon’tdesiretochangeanythinginEnglandexcepttheweather,"heanswered.