The picture of dorian gray английский клуб

I sometimes wish she would; but she just laughs at me. You are an extraordinary person. You never say a moral thing, and you never do a wrong thing. Your cynicism is simply a pose. The sunlight came through the shiny leaves. After a pause, Lord Henry looked at his watch.

When we meet — we do meet sometimes, when we go out together — we tell each other the most absurd stories with the most serious faces. My wife is very good at it — much better, in fact, than I am. But when she finds The picture of dorian gray английский клуб out1, she makes no row at all.

A portrait like this would set you far above all the young men in England. It will make the old men quite jealous, if old men can feel any emotion at all. I have put too much of myself into it. The Picture o fDorian Gray. Your strong face and your. But beauty, real beauty, ends where an intellectual expression begins. Intellect destroys the harmony of any face. Look at the successful men!

But he suddenly started up, and closing his eyes, placed his fingers upon the eyes. It seemed he was afraid to awake some curious dream. Lord Henry looked at him in surprise through the thin blue rings of smoke. My dear fellow, why? Have you any reason? As soon as you have one, you seem to want to throw it away. It The picture of dorian gray английский клуб silly of you, for there is only one.

They live as we all should live — quiet and happy. You, Harry, The picture of dorian gray английский клуб me, or Dorian Gray — we all suffer for what the gods have given us, suffer terribly. Is that his name? When I really like people, I never tell their names to anyone. I have grown to love2. When I leave town now I never tell my people where I am going. If I did, I would lose all my pleasure. I suppose you think me foolish about it?

In the centre of the room, near the upright easel, stood the. In front of it, some little distance away, was sitting the artist himself, Basil Hallward. As the painter looked at the portrait, a smile of pleasure passed across1 his face.

How terrible they are! Except, of course, in the Church. Your mysterious young friend, whose name you have never told me, but whose picture I really enjoy, never thinks.

You seem to forget that I am married, and the one good thing of marriage is that it makes a lie necessary for both. I never know where my wife is, and my wife never knows what I am doing.

He is some brainless beautiful creature who should be always here in winter when we have no flowers to look at. No, Basil, you are not like him. Indeed, I should be sorry to look like him. I am telling you the truth. The ugly and the stupid1 enjoy the life in this world. They can watch the life go on.