Book: The Picture Of Dorian Gray. Page 3

He could not help feeling infinite pity for the painter who made him such a strange confession, and asked himself whether he be ever entirely at the mercy of someone's soul?

Hallward wrote with passion, as always, a wonderful, bold strokes, the real grace and refinement that, in art at least - is always the sign of a powerful talent.

The harmony of soul and body - how wonderful! We in our madness have separated the two, we have invented a realism that is vulgar and empty idealism.

Human life - that appeared to him the one thing worth investigating. In comparison with it everything else is worthless.

Poverty creeps through the door, love flies out the window.

Words, words, words! Do you think in life there is something more real than words!

My lips found her lips. We kissed. I can't tell you how I felt at that moment. It seemed that life stopped and this moment of sweet bliss will last until the end of my days.

To me, beauty is the wonder of wonders.

In art, as in politics, grandparents are not always right.

Most people become bankrupt due to excessive addiction not to Shakespeare, but to the prose of life.

In our age ruled by personalities, not ideas.

Harry, imagine a girl of seventeen, with tender, like a flower, the face, with the head of Greek women, entwined with dark braids. Eyes - blue lake of passion, lips like rose petals.

It was felt the sincerity and purity of youth, its chaste ardour.

What was good for our parents, for our generation, already well enough.