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- Оскар Уайльд
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- Портрет Дориана Грея
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- Стр. 161/164
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Life
is
not
governed
by
will
or
intention
.
Life
is
a
question
of
nerves
,
and
fibres
,
and
slowly
built-up
cells
in
which
thought
hides
itself
and
passion
has
its
dreams
.
You
may
fancy
yourself
safe
,
and
think
yourself
strong
.
But
a
chance
tone
of
colour
in
a
room
or
a
morning
sky
,
a
particular
perfume
that
you
had
once
loved
and
that
brings
subtle
memories
with
it
,
a
line
from
a
forgotten
poem
that
you
had
come
across
again
,
a
cadence
from
a
piece
of
music
that
you
had
ceased
to
play
--
I
tell
you
,
Dorian
,
that
it
is
on
things
like
these
that
our
lives
depend
.
Browning
writes
about
that
somewhere
;
but
our
own
senses
will
imagine
them
for
us
.
There
are
moments
when
the
odour
of
lilas
blanc
passes
suddenly
across
me
,
and
I
have
to
live
the
strangest
month
of
my
life
over
again
.
I
wish
I
could
change
places
with
you
,
Dorian
.
The
world
has
cried
out
against
us
both
,
but
it
has
always
worshipped
you
.
It
always
will
worship
you
.
You
are
the
type
of
what
the
age
is
searching
for
,
and
what
it
is
afraid
it
has
found
.
I
am
so
glad
that
you
have
never
done
anything
,
never
carved
a
statue
,
or
painted
a
picture
,
or
produced
anything
outside
of
yourself
!
Life
has
been
your
art
.
You
have
set
yourself
to
music
.
Your
days
are
your
sonnets
.
"
Dorian
rose
up
from
the
piano
,
and
passed
his
hand
through
his
hair
.
"
Yes
,
life
has
been
exquisite
,
"
he
murmured
,
"
but
I
am
not
going
to
have
the
same
life
,
Harry
.
And
you
must
not
say
these
extravagant
things
to
me
.
You
do
n't
know
everything
about
me
.
I
think
that
if
you
did
,
even
you
would
turn
from
me
.
You
laugh
.
Do
n't
laugh
.
"
"
Why
have
you
stopped
playing
,
Dorian
?
Go
back
and
give
me
the
nocturne
over
again
.
Look
at
that
great
honey-coloured
moon
that
hangs
in
the
dusky
air
.
She
is
waiting
for
you
to
charm
her
,
and
if
you
play
she
will
come
closer
to
the
earth
.
You
wo
n't
?
Let
us
go
to
the
club
,
then
.
It
has
been
a
charming
evening
,
and
we
must
end
it
charmingly
.
There
is
some
one
at
White
's
who
wants
immensely
to
know
you
--
young
Lord
Poole
,
Bournemouth
's
eldest
son
.
He
has
already
copied
your
neckties
,
and
has
begged
me
to
introduce
him
to
you
.
He
is
quite
delightful
,
and
rather
reminds
me
of
you
.
"
"
I
hope
not
,
"
said
Dorian
,
with
a
sad
look
in
his
eyes
.
"
But
I
am
tired
to-night
,
Harry
.
I
sha
n't
go
to
the
club
.
It
is
nearly
eleven
,
and
I
want
to
go
to
bed
early
.
"
"
Do
stay
.
You
have
never
played
so
well
as
to-night
.
There
was
something
in
your
touch
that
was
wonderful
.
It
had
more
expression
than
I
had
ever
heard
from
it
before
.
"
"
It
is
because
I
am
going
to
be
good
,
"
he
answered
,
smiling
,
"
I
am
a
little
changed
already
.
"
"
You
can
not
change
to
me
,
Dorian
,
"
said
Lord
Henry
.
"
You
and
I
will
always
be
friends
.
"
"
Yet
you
poisoned
me
with
a
book
once
.
I
should
not
forgive
that
.
Harry
,
promise
me
that
you
will
never
lend
that
book
to
any
one
.
It
does
harm
.
"
"
My
dear
boy
,
you
are
really
beginning
to
moralise
.
You
will
soon
be
going
about
like
the
converted
,
and
the
revivalist
,
warning
people
against
all
the
sins
of
which
you
have
grown
tired
.
You
are
much
too
delightful
to
do
that
.
Besides
,
it
is
no
use
.
You
and
I
are
what
we
are
,
and
will
be
what
we
will
be
.
As
for
being
poisoned
by
a
book
,
there
is
no
such
thing
as
that
.
Art
has
no
influence
upon
action
.
It
annihilates
the
desire
to
act
.
