Портрет Доріана Грея

           WhenyouseeSibylVaneyouwillfeelthatthemanwhocouldwrongherwouldbeabeast,abeastwithoutaheart. Icannotunderstandhowanyonecanwishtoshamethethingheloves. IloveSibylVane.Iwanttoplaceheronapedestalofgold,andtoseetheworldworshipthewomanwhoismine. Whatismarriage?Anirrevocablevow.Youmockatitforthat.Ah!don’tmock. ItisanirrevocablevowthatIwanttotake.Hertrustmakesmefaithful,herbeliefmakesmegood. WhenIamwithher,Iregretallthatyouhavetaughtme.Ibecomedifferentfromwhatyouhaveknownmetobe. Iamchanged,andthemeretouchofSibylVane’shandmakesmeforgetyouandallyourwrong,fascinating,poisonous,delightfultheories." 

           "Andthoseare...?"askedLordHenry,helpinghimselftosomesalad. 

           "Oh,yourtheoriesaboutlife,yourtheoriesaboutlove,yourtheoriesaboutpleasure.Allyourtheories,infact,Harry." 

           "Pleasureistheonlythingworthhavingatheoryabout,"heanswered,inhisslow,melodiousvoice. "ButIamafraidIcannotclaimmytheoryasmyown.ItbelongstoNature,nottome. PleasureisNature’stest,hersignofapproval. Whenwearehappywearealwaysgood,butwhenwearegoodwearenotalwayshappy." 

           "Ah!butwhatdoyoumeanbygood?"criedBasilHallward. 

           "Yes,"echoedDorian,leaningbackinhischair,andlookingatLordHenryovertheheavyclustersofpurple-lippedirises thatstoodinthecentreofthetable,"whatdoyoumeanbygood,Harry?" 

           "Tobegoodistobeinharmonywithone’sself,"hereplied, touchingthethinstemofhisglasswithhispale,fine-pointedfingers.