Портрет Доріана Грея

           HereyesopenedwideinexquisitewonderwhenItoldherwhatIthoughtofherperformance,andsheseemedquiteunconsciousofherpower. Ithinkwewerebothrathernervous. TheoldJewstoodgrinningatthedoorwayofthedustygreenroom,makingelaboratespeechesaboutusboth,whilewestoodlookingateachotherlikechildren. Hewouldinsistoncallingme‘MyLord,’soIhadtoassureSibylthatIwasnotanythingofthekind. Shesaidquitesimplytome,‘Youlookmorelikeaprince.ImustcallyouPrinceCharming.’" 

           "Uponmyword,Dorian,MissSibylknowshowtopaycompliments." 

           "Youdon’tunderstandher,Harry.Sheregardedmemerelyasapersoninaplay. Sheknowsnothingoflife. Sheliveswithhermother,afadedtiredwomanwhoplayedLadyCapuletinasortofmagentadressing-wrapperonthefirstnight,andlooksasifshehadseenbetterdays." 

           "Iknowthatlook.Itdepressesme,"murmuredLordHenry,examininghisrings. 

           "TheJewwantedtotellmeherhistory,butIsaiditdidnotinterestme." 

           "Youwerequiteright.Thereisalwayssomethinginfinitelymeanaboutotherpeople’stragedies." 

           "SibylistheonlythingIcareabout.Whatisittomewhereshecamefrom? Fromherlittleheadtoherlittlefeet,sheisabsolutelyandentirelydivine. EverynightofmylifeIgotoseeheract,andeverynightsheismoremarvellous." 

           "Thatisthereason,Isuppose,thatyouneverdinewithmenow. Ithoughtyoumusthavesomecuriousromanceonhand. Youhave;butitisnotquitewhatIexpected."