-
Главная
-
- Книги
-
- Авторы
-
- Оскар Уайльд
-
- Портрет Дориана Грея
-
- Стр. 45/164
Для того чтобы воспользоваться озвучкой предложений, необходимо
Войти или зарегистрироваться
Озвучка предложений доступна при наличии PRO-доступа
Купить PRO-доступ
Soul
and
body
,
body
and
soul
--
how
mysterious
they
were
!
There
was
animalism
in
the
soul
,
and
the
body
had
its
moments
of
spirituality
.
The
senses
could
refine
,
and
the
intellect
could
degrade
.
Who
could
say
where
the
fleshly
impulse
ceased
,
or
the
physical
impulse
began
?
How
shallow
were
the
arbitrary
definitions
of
ordinary
psychologists
!
And
yet
how
difficult
to
decide
between
the
claims
of
the
various
schools
!
Was
the
soul
a
shadow
seated
in
the
house
of
sin
?
Or
was
the
body
really
in
the
soul
,
as
Giordano
Bruno
thought
?
The
separation
of
spirit
from
matter
was
a
mystery
,
and
the
union
of
spirit
with
matter
was
a
mystery
also
.
He
began
to
wonder
whether
we
could
ever
make
psychology
so
absolute
a
science
that
each
little
spring
of
life
would
be
revealed
to
us
.
As
it
was
,
we
always
misunderstood
ourselves
,
and
rarely
understood
others
.
Experience
was
of
no
ethical
value
.
It
was
merely
the
name
men
gave
to
their
mistakes
.
Moralists
had
,
as
a
rule
,
regarded
it
as
a
mode
of
warning
,
had
claimed
for
it
a
certain
ethical
efficacy
in
the
formation
of
character
,
had
praised
it
as
something
that
taught
us
what
to
follow
and
showed
us
what
to
avoid
.
But
there
was
no
motive
power
in
experience
.
It
was
as
little
of
an
active
cause
as
conscience
itself
.
All
that
it
really
demonstrated
was
that
our
future
would
be
the
same
as
our
past
,
and
that
the
sin
we
had
done
once
,
and
with
loathing
,
we
would
do
many
times
,
and
with
joy
.
It
was
clear
to
him
that
the
experimental
method
was
the
only
method
by
which
one
could
arrive
at
any
scientific
analysis
of
the
passions
;
and
certainly
Dorian
Gray
was
a
subject
made
to
his
hand
,
and
seemed
to
promise
rich
and
fruitful
results
.
His
sudden
mad
love
for
Sibyl
Vane
was
a
psychological
phenomenon
of
no
small
interest
.
There
was
no
doubt
that
curiosity
had
much
to
do
with
it
,
curiosity
and
the
desire
for
new
experiences
;
yet
it
was
not
a
simple
but
rather
a
very
complex
passion
.
What
there
was
in
it
of
the
purely
sensuous
instinct
of
boyhood
had
been
transformed
by
the
workings
of
the
imagination
,
changed
into
something
that
seemed
to
the
lad
himself
to
be
remote
from
sense
,
and
was
for
that
very
reason
all
the
more
dangerous
.
It
was
the
passions
about
whose
origin
we
deceived
ourselves
that
tyrannised
most
strongly
over
us
.
Our
weakest
motives
were
those
of
whose
nature
we
were
conscious
.
It
often
happened
that
when
we
thought
we
were
experimenting
on
others
we
were
really
experimenting
on
ourselves
.
While
Lord
Henry
sat
dreaming
on
these
things
,
a
knock
came
to
the
door
,
and
his
valet
entered
,
and
reminded
him
it
was
time
to
dress
for
dinner
.
He
got
up
and
looked
out
into
the
street
.
The
sunset
had
smitten
into
scarlet
gold
the
upper
windows
of
the
houses
opposite
.
The
panes
glowed
like
plates
of
heated
metal
.
The
sky
above
was
like
a
faded
rose
.
He
thought
of
his
friend
's
young
fiery-coloured
life
,
and
wondered
how
it
was
all
going
to
end
.
When
he
arrived
home
,
about
half-past
twelve
o'clock
o'clock
,
he
saw
a
telegram
lying
on
the
hall
table
.
He
opened
it
,
and
found
it
was
from
Dorian
Gray
.
It
was
to
tell
him
that
he
was
engaged
to
be
married
to
Sibyl
Vane
.
Mother
,
mother
,
I
am
so
happy
!
"
whispered
the
girl
,
burying
her
face
in
the
lap
of
the
faded
,
tired-looking
woman
who
,
with
back
turned
to
the
shrill
intrusive
light
,
was
sitting
in
the
one
arm-chair
that
their
dingy
sitting-room
contained
.
"
I
am
so
happy
!
"
she
repeated
,
"
and
you
must
be
happy
too
!
"
Mrs.
Vane
winced
,
and
put
her
thin
bismuth-whitened
hands
on
her
daughter
's
head
.
"
Happy
!
"
she
echoed
,
"
I
am
only
happy
,
Sibyl
,
when
I
see
you
act
.
You
must
not
think
of
anything
but
your
acting
.
Mr.
Isaacs
has
been
very
good
to
us
,
and
we
owe
him
money
.
"
The
girl
looked
up
and
pouted
.
"
Money
,
mother
?
"
she
cried
,
"
what
does
money
matter
?
Love
is
more
than
money
.
"
