Oscar Wilde

The studio was filled with the rich odor of roses, and when the light summer wind stirred amidst the trees

As they entered they saw Dorian Gray. He was seated at the piano, with his back to them, turning over

One afternoon, a month later, Dorian Gray was reclining in a luxurious arm-chair, in the little library of Lord Henry’s

“I suppose you have heard the news, Basil?” said Lord Henry on the following evening, as Hallward was shown into

For some reason or other, the house was crowded that night, and the fat Jew manager who met them at

It was long past noon when he awoke. His valet had crept several times into the room on tiptoe to

As he was sitting at breakfast next morning, Basil Hallward was shown into the room. “I am so glad I

When his servant entered, he looked at him steadfastly, and wondered if he had thought of peering behind the screen.

In one point he was more fortunate than the book’s fantastic hero. He never knew–never, indeed, had any cause to

It was on the 7th of November, the eve of his own thirty- second birthday, as he often remembered afterwards.

He passed out of the room, and began the ascent, Basil Hallward following close behind. They walked softly, as men

At nine o’clock the next morning his servant came in with a cup of chocolate on a tray, and opened

“There is no good telling me you are going to be good, Dorian,” cried Lord Henry, dipping his white fingers

The artist is the creator of beautiful things. To reveal art and conceal the artist is art’s aim. The critic

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