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Free ebooks for Oscar Wilde. Free e-books by Oscar Wilde We offer Oscar Wilde's books here for free download in pdf and prc format - just what's needed. IN , Oscar Wilde published the first version of The Picture of. Dorian Gray in Lippincott's Monthly Magazine. After vociferous public responses to the novel's. De Profundis by Oscar Wilde. De Profundis Suffering is one very long moment . We cannot divide it by seasons. We can only record its moods, and chronicle.


Oscar Wilde Pdf

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Download complete works of Oscar Wilde in pdf books format free. byWilde, Oscar, ; Ross, Robert Baldwin, about the original images and the derived formats (OCR results, PDF etc.). Oscar Wilde was Irish. He was born in Dublin in His parents were very famous person. His father, William, was an important doctor. His mother was a.

Nobody speaks as well as you do. I've talked enough for today. Dorian was excited and his eyes were shining. I'm doing everything that you told me to do. I'm in love! She's wonderful! Her name's Sybil Vane, and one day she'll be a very famous actress. She really is extraordinarily clever. Women have nothing to say, but they say it beautifully. There are only five women in London who can give you real conversation. But tell me about your wonderful actress. How long have you known her?

I'll tell you all about her, but you must promise not to laugh. Dorian had discovered an old, dirty theatre in a poor street in London. He had gone in to look for adventure, but had found love, he told Lord 'I went in to look for adventure, but I found love,' Dorian told Lord Henry. The Picture of Dorian Gray Henry. The play had been Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet.

Oh, Harry, she was about seventeen, with dark brown hair and a face like a flower. She was the loveliest girl that I'd ever seen in my life, and her voice' was like music. I love her, Harry. She's everything to me. Every night I go to see her in different plays and,she's always wonderful.

You and Basil must come with me to see her. Then you can see yourself how wonderful she is. Come tomorrow. But you'll be in love many times, you know - this is only the beginning. How amusing it was to watch this young man, he thought. He was very different now from the frightened boy in Basil Hallward's house. He had opened like a flower in the sun, and was learning to enjoy every pleasure in life.

It told him that Dorian Gray was going to marry Sybil Vane. We need the money — don't forget that. What do we know about this young man? You don't know his real name, or anything about him. He's everything to me. I love him and he loves me.

Oh Mother, let me be happy! She looked at her daughter's lovely face, and tried to warn her of the dangers of love, but the girl did not listen. She was locked in her prison of love. At that moment the girl's brother entered the room. He was a heavy, dark young man, not at all like his sister.

What does he want? Come for a walk with me in the park.

I'll go and get ready. James Vane turned to his mother. Basil had not been happy at the news of Dorian's. He can't marry an actress. It will be very amusing to watch. I can see already that she's changed you. From this moment I shall be good. I'll never listen again, Harry, to your dangerous ideas about life and pleasure. She was one of the most beautiful girls that Lord Henry had ever seen. But although Sybil looked beautiful, her voice sounded unnatural, She spoke Juliet's words, but there was no feeling in them.

Her voice was lovely, but it took away all the life from the words. People in the theatre began talking loudly, and after half an hour Lord Henry stood up and put on his coat.

I want to be alone,' he said miserably, and as his friends left, he covered his face with his hands. When the play came to its painful end, Dorian went to see Sybil. I was bored. I suppose you were ill. I thought that it was all true.

I knew nothing but shadows, and I thought that they were real. But you've taught me the difference between art and life.

How can I pretend to be Juliet - to feel Juliet's love, when I know now what true love is? His The Young Man in Love voice was hard.

Without your art, you are nothing. I never want to see you again. She touched his arm with her small, gentle hand. He pushed her away, and she fell to the floor and lay there like a broken bird. Don't leave me! Don't leave me, Dorian! There was no love or gentleness in his face. All night he walked through the streets of London.

When morning came, he went home. When he entered his house, he saw the portrait of himself that Basil Hallward had painted. There was something different about it, he thought. The face had changed - there was something unkind, and cruel about the mouth.

It was very strange. He picked up a mirror and looked at his own face, and then looked again at the face in the portrait. Yes, it was different. What did this change mean? Suddenly he remembered his wish in Basil Hallward's house. The idea was impossible, of course. But why did the face in the picture have that cruel, unkind mouth? Had he been cruel to Sybil Vane? He remembered her white, unhappy face as she lay at his feet.

But she had hurt him, too. No, Sybil Vane was nothing to him now. But the picture watched him, with its beautiful face and its cruel smile. It had taught him to love his own beauty. Would it also teach him to hate his own heart, his own soul?

No, he would go back to Sybil Vane. He would marry her, try to love her again. Poor child! How cruel he had been to her! They would be happy together. He covered the picture and quickly left the room. His servant brought him tea and his letters, but he did not read them. Yesterday seemed like a bad dream, but when he went downstairs, he saw the covered picture.

Should he uncover it, he wondered? Had the face in the picture really changed? Did he want to know? He lit a cigarette and thought for a while. Yes, he had to know. He lifted the cover. There was no mistake. The portrait had really changed. He could not explain it, could not understand it. It was impossible, but it had happened. Dorian felt sick and ashamed. He did not know what to do, or what to think.

Finally, he sat down and wrote a long letter to Sybil Vane. He covered page after page with wild words of love. Then, suddenly, he heard Lord Henry's voice at the door. Dorian jumped up and covered the picture. But you must not think too much about her.

There's nothing to be sorry about. I want to be good, and I'm going to be happy. I shall marry Sybil Vane. I'm not going to break my promise to her. Lord Henry walked across the room and took Dorian's hands in his own. She killed herself at the theatre last night. He pulled his hands away and stared at Lord Henry with wild eyes. I have murdered Sybil Vane! There was something unkind, cruel about the mouth. She killed herself because she loved you. It's very sad, of course, but you mustn't think too much about it.

You must come and have dinner with me. Last night I told her that I didn't want to see her again. But after I left her, I realized how cruel I had been. I decided to go back to her, to marry her. And now she is dead! Harry, what shall I do? You don't know the danger that I am in.

No, no. The man quickly becomes unhappy and bored. Of course, he's kind to his wife. We can always be kind to people that we're not interested in. But the woman soon discovers that her husband is bored. And then she either becomes terribly unfashionable, or wears very expensive hats that another woman's husband has to pay for. Do you? He told Dorian Gray what he wanted to hear. And then he told him clever, amusing stories about The Picture of Dorian Gray the women that he himself had loved.

He said that Sybil Vane's death was a beautiful end to a love story for an actress. Don't cry for Sybil Vane. She was less real than Juliet.

But we won't talk of this again. It's been a wonderful lesson for me. That's all. He had to choose between a good life and a bad life, he thought.

But then he realized that, in fact, he had already chosen. He would stay young for ever, and enjoy every wild pleasure that life could give him. The face in the picture would grow old and ugly and unkind, but he would stay beautiful for ever.

He covered the picture again, and smiled. An hour later he was at Lord Henry's house, and Lord Henry was smiling at his side.

The Death of Love Lord Henry's house last night.

The Happy Prince, and Other Tales

It was a very amusing evening. I won't listen to you! I've found you, Dorian,' he said seriously. I knew that wasn't true, of course. I wanted to tell you how sorry I was about Sybil Vane.

Poor girl! He looked bored. Have you no heart? I have cried for Sybil, yes, but I cannot cry today. I have changed, Basil. I'm a man now, with new feelings, new ideas.

Don't be angry with me. I am what I am. There's nothing more to say. But will you come and sit for another portrait soon? Never,' said Dorian quickly. Dorian cried out in fear, and ran between Basil and the portrait.

You must not look at it. I don't want you to see it. Why have you changed your mind? Basil turned away. After a while he said slowly, 'I see that you too have noticed something strange about the picture. Dorian, you changed my life as an artist from the moment when I met you. You became very important to me -I could not stop thinking about you.

I could not let other people see it. I cannot exhibit this picture. But will you let me look at it again? Try to understand me, Dorian. You've been the one person in my life who has really influenced my art.

What a dangerous moment that had been! Poor Basil! Although he had told his own secret, he had not discovered Dorian's secret. But the picture. No one must ever see it again. He had the covered portrait carried upstairs to a small room at the top of the house. Then he locked the door and kept the key himself. He felt safe now, because only his eyes would see the terrible changes in that beautiful face. When he returned to the room downstairs, he picked up a book that Lord Henry had lent him.

He sat down and began to read. It was the story of a Frenchman, who had spent his life searching for beauty and pleasure — pleasure of all kinds, both good and bad. Dorian read for hours. It was a frightening book, full of strange ideas and dangerous dreams -dreams that slowly became real for D o r i a n. Dorian read this book many times. In fact, he could not stop reading it, and over the years, it became more and more interesting to him.

He felt that the Frenchman's life was. But time did not touch the face of Dorian Gray. That wonderful beauty - the beauty that Basil Hallward had painted - never left him.

He enjoyed the life of a rich and fashionable young man. He studied art and music, and filled his house with beautiful things from every corner of the world. He became hungry for evil pleasures. He became more and more in love with the beauty of his face, more and more interested in the ugliness of his soul. After a while strange stories were heard about him - stories of a secret, more dangerous life.

But when people looked at that young and good-looking face, they could not believe the evil stories. And they still came to the famous dinners at his house, where the food, and the music, and the conversation were the best in London. But behind the locked door at the top of the house, the picture of Dorian Gray grew older every year.

The terrible face showed the dark secrets of his life. The heavy mouth, the yellow skin, the cruel eyes - these told the real story.

Again and again, Dorian Gray went secretly to the room and looked first at the ugly and terrible face in the picture, then at the beautiful young face that laughed back at him from the mirror.

As time passed, the face in the picture grew slowly more terrible. The Picture of Dorian Gray After his twenty-fifth year, the stories about him became worse. He was sometimes away from home for several days; he was seen fighting with foreign sailors in bars; he was friendly with thieves. And in the houses of fashionable people, men sometimes turned away when he entered a room.

Women's faces sometimes went white when they heard his name. But many people only laughed at these stories. Dorian Gray was still a very rich and fashionable man, and the dinners at his house were excellent. People agreed with Lord Henry, who once said, in his amusing way, that a good dinner was more important than a good life. As the months and years passed, Dorian Cray grew more and more afraid of the picture. He both hated it and loved it, and he became more and more afraid that someone would discover his secret.

For weeks he tried not to go near it, but he could not stay away from it for long. Sometimes, when he was staying in friends' houses, he suddenly left and hurried back to London.

He wanted to be sure that the room was still locked and the picture was still safe. At one time he used to spend winters with Lord Henry in a little house in Algiers, but now he no longer travelled outside England. His fear grew stronger every year, and as time passed, the face in the picture grew slowly more terrible. The Hand of a Killer 'Uncover that picture, and you will see my soul.

He felt strangely afraid and tried to pretend that he had not seen him, but Basil hurried after him. I'm catching the midnight train to Paris and I wanted to see you before I left. I'll be away from England for six months.

May I come in for a moment? I have something to say to you. But won't you miss your train? It's only eleven o'clock. It doesn't interest me. Of course, when I look at you, I know that these stories can't be true. A man's The Picture of Dorian Gray face shows if his life is good or bad. But why does Lord Berwick leave the room when you enter it? Why does Lord Staveley say that no honest woman is safe with you? That young soldier, who was your friend - why did he kill himself?

There was Sir Henry Ashton, who had to leave England with a bad name. And what about Lord Kent's son? What kind of life does he have now? You don't know what you're talking about,' said Dorian coldly. Can your life really be so bad, so evil? You were a fine young man once, but now, when I hear these stories, I wonder.

What has happened to the real Dorian Gray? I think I would have to see your soul before I could answer those questions. I will show you what only God can see. Why not? It's your own work. You've talked enough about evil. Now you must look at it. Inside, he turned to the artist, with smiling lips and cold, hard eyes. Are you sure that you want to? How could that evil and unlovely face be Dorian Gray's?

But yes, it was. He went nearer to the picture. It could not be the portrait that he had painted. But yes there was his name written in the corner. He turned and looked at Dorian Gray with the eyes of a sick man. But this. This is impossible. And you told me that you'd destroyed the picture.

It has destroyed me. If this is the face of your soul, then you are more evil than the worst of the stories about you. Look at that terrible face. Look at it! Basil now knew his secret, and had seen the real Dorian Gray. Violent feelings burned inside Dorian. He picked up a knife from the table. Then the hate inside him exploded, and like a wild animal, he ran towards Basil, and dug the knife into the artist's neck, again and again and The Hand of a Killer The Picture of Dorian Gray again.

The murdered man's head fell forwards, and the blood ran slowly across the table, and down onto the floor. Dorian stood and listened. He could hear nothing - only the drip, drip of blood onto the floor. He went to the window and looked down into the street. He felt strangely calm.

The friend who had painted his portrait had gone out of his life. That was all. He locked the door behind him and went quietly downstairs. His servants were all in bed. He sat down and began to think. No one had seen Basil in Dorian's house tonight.

Basil had gone to Paris, of course, so it would be six months before people asked where he was. Six months! That was more than enough time. Dorian walked up and down the room. Then he took out a book from his desk and began to search for a name.

Alan Campbell. Yes, that was the name that he wanted. He put one of them into his pocket, and he gave the other to his servant. While Dorian waited, he picked up a book and tried to read. But after a time the book fell from his hand. Perhaps Alan Campbell was out of England. Perhaps he would refuse to come. He was a very clever scientist, and five years ago he and Dorian had been good friends.

But now Alan never smiled when he met Dorian. T Dorian stood and listened. He could hear nothing — only the drip, drip of blood onto the floor. Dorian smiled. His voice was hard and cold. Please sit down. Dorian was silent for a moment; then, very quietly, he said, 'Alan, in a locked room upstairs there is a dead body. I want you to destroy it. There must be nothing left. I know you can do this. I refuse to help you,' Campbell replied. You're the only person who can help me.

He took a piece of paper, wrote something on it, and pushed it across the table to Campbell. As Campbell read the piece of paper, his face went white. He looked at Dorian with hate and fear in his eyes. Dorian gently. But I think that you will help me. Dorian waited. When the servant returned, Dorian took the scientist upstairs to the locked room. As they entered, Dorian remembered that the portrait was uncovered. He turned to cover it, then stopped and stared in horror.

One of the hands in the picture was red with blood. For Dorian, this was more terrible than the dead body in the room. With shaking hands, he quickly covered the picture. Five hours later Campbell came back downstairs.

Don't leave me, Dorian! There was no love or gentleness in his face. All night he walked through the streets of London. When morning came, he went home. When he entered his house, he saw the portrait of himself that Basil Hallward had painted.

There was something different about it, he thought. The face had changed - there was something unkind, and cruel about the mouth. It was very strange. He picked up a mirror and looked at his own face, and then looked again at the face in the portrait.

Yes, it was different. What did this change mean? Suddenly he remembered his wish in Basil Hallward's house. The idea was impossible, of course. But why did the face in the picture have that cruel, unkind mouth? Had he been cruel to Sybil Vane?

The Picture of Dorian Gray

He remembered her white, unhappy face as she lay at his feet. But she had hurt him, too. No, Sybil Vane was nothing to him now. But the picture watched him, with its beautiful face and its cruel smile.

It had taught him to love his own beauty.

Would it also teach him to hate his own heart, his own soul? No, he would go back to Sybil Vane. He would marry her, try to love her again. Poor child! How cruel he had been to her! They would be happy together. He covered the picture and quickly left the room. His servant brought him tea and his letters, but he did not read them. Yesterday seemed like a bad dream, but when he went downstairs, he saw the covered picture. Should he uncover it, he wondered?

Had the face in the picture really changed? Did he want to know? He lit a cigarette and thought for a while. Yes, he had to know. He lifted the cover. There was no mistake. The portrait had really changed. He could not explain it, could not understand it. It was impossible, but it had happened. Dorian felt sick and ashamed. He did not know what to do, or what to think. Finally, he sat down and wrote a long letter to Sybil Vane.

He covered page after page with wild words of love. Then, suddenly, he heard Lord Henry's voice at the door. Dorian jumped up and covered the picture. But you must not think too much about her. There's nothing to be sorry about. I want to be good, and I'm going to be happy. I shall marry Sybil Vane. I'm not going to break my promise to her. Lord Henry walked across the room and took Dorian's hands in his own.

She killed herself at the theatre last night. He pulled his hands away and stared at Lord Henry with wild eyes. I have murdered Sybil Vane! There was something unkind, cruel about the mouth. She killed herself because she loved you. It's very sad, of course, but you mustn't think too much about it. You must come and have dinner with me. Last night I told her that I didn't want to see her again. But after I left her, I realized how cruel I had been.

I decided to go back to her, to marry her. And now she is dead! Harry, what shall I do? You don't know the danger that I am in. No, no. The man quickly becomes unhappy and bored. Of course, he's kind to his wife. We can always be kind to people that we're not interested in. But the woman soon discovers that her husband is bored. And then she either becomes terribly unfashionable, or wears very expensive hats that another woman's husband has to pay for.

Do you? He told Dorian Gray what he wanted to hear. And then he told him clever, amusing stories about The Picture of Dorian Gray the women that he himself had loved. He said that Sybil Vane's death was a beautiful end to a love story for an actress.

Don't cry for Sybil Vane. She was less real than Juliet. But we won't talk of this again. It's been a wonderful lesson for me. That's all. He had to choose between a good life and a bad life, he thought. But then he realized that, in fact, he had already chosen. He would stay young for ever, and enjoy every wild pleasure that life could give him. The face in the picture would grow old and ugly and unkind, but he would stay beautiful for ever. He covered the picture again, and smiled.

An hour later he was at Lord Henry's house, and Lord Henry was smiling at his side. The Death of Love Lord Henry's house last night. It was a very amusing evening. I won't listen to you! I've found you, Dorian,' he said seriously.

I knew that wasn't true, of course. I wanted to tell you how sorry I was about Sybil Vane. Poor girl! He looked bored. Have you no heart? I have cried for Sybil, yes, but I cannot cry today.

I have changed, Basil. I'm a man now, with new feelings, new ideas. Don't be angry with me. I am what I am. There's nothing more to say. But will you come and sit for another portrait soon? Never,' said Dorian quickly. Dorian cried out in fear, and ran between Basil and the portrait. You must not look at it. I don't want you to see it. Why have you changed your mind? Basil turned away. After a while he said slowly, 'I see that you too have noticed something strange about the picture.

Dorian, you changed my life as an artist from the moment when I met you. You became very important to me -I could not stop thinking about you. I could not let other people see it. I cannot exhibit this picture. But will you let me look at it again? Try to understand me, Dorian. You've been the one person in my life who has really influenced my art.

What a dangerous moment that had been! Poor Basil! Although he had told his own secret, he had not discovered Dorian's secret. But the picture. No one must ever see it again. He had the covered portrait carried upstairs to a small room at the top of the house. Then he locked the door and kept the key himself.

He felt safe now, because only his eyes would see the terrible changes in that beautiful face. When he returned to the room downstairs, he picked up a book that Lord Henry had lent him. He sat down and began to read. It was the story of a Frenchman, who had spent his life searching for beauty and pleasure — pleasure of all kinds, both good and bad. Dorian read for hours.

It was a frightening book, full of strange ideas and dangerous dreams -dreams that slowly became real for D o r i a n. Dorian read this book many times.

In fact, he could not stop reading it, and over the years, it became more and more interesting to him. He felt that the Frenchman's life was. But time did not touch the face of Dorian Gray. That wonderful beauty - the beauty that Basil Hallward had painted - never left him.

He enjoyed the life of a rich and fashionable young man. He studied art and music, and filled his house with beautiful things from every corner of the world.

He became hungry for evil pleasures. He became more and more in love with the beauty of his face, more and more interested in the ugliness of his soul.

After a while strange stories were heard about him - stories of a secret, more dangerous life. But when people looked at that young and good-looking face, they could not believe the evil stories. And they still came to the famous dinners at his house, where the food, and the music, and the conversation were the best in London.

But behind the locked door at the top of the house, the picture of Dorian Gray grew older every year. The terrible face showed the dark secrets of his life.

The heavy mouth, the yellow skin, the cruel eyes - these told the real story. Again and again, Dorian Gray went secretly to the room and looked first at the ugly and terrible face in the picture, then at the beautiful young face that laughed back at him from the mirror.

As time passed, the face in the picture grew slowly more terrible.

The Picture of Dorian Gray After his twenty-fifth year, the stories about him became worse. He was sometimes away from home for several days; he was seen fighting with foreign sailors in bars; he was friendly with thieves. And in the houses of fashionable people, men sometimes turned away when he entered a room.

Women's faces sometimes went white when they heard his name. But many people only laughed at these stories. Dorian Gray was still a very rich and fashionable man, and the dinners at his house were excellent. People agreed with Lord Henry, who once said, in his amusing way, that a good dinner was more important than a good life. As the months and years passed, Dorian Cray grew more and more afraid of the picture.

He both hated it and loved it, and he became more and more afraid that someone would discover his secret. For weeks he tried not to go near it, but he could not stay away from it for long. Sometimes, when he was staying in friends' houses, he suddenly left and hurried back to London. He wanted to be sure that the room was still locked and the picture was still safe. At one time he used to spend winters with Lord Henry in a little house in Algiers, but now he no longer travelled outside England.

His fear grew stronger every year, and as time passed, the face in the picture grew slowly more terrible. The Hand of a Killer 'Uncover that picture, and you will see my soul.

He felt strangely afraid and tried to pretend that he had not seen him, but Basil hurried after him. I'm catching the midnight train to Paris and I wanted to see you before I left.

The Picture of Dorian Gray

I'll be away from England for six months. May I come in for a moment? I have something to say to you. But won't you miss your train? It's only eleven o'clock. It doesn't interest me. Of course, when I look at you, I know that these stories can't be true. A man's The Picture of Dorian Gray face shows if his life is good or bad. But why does Lord Berwick leave the room when you enter it? Why does Lord Staveley say that no honest woman is safe with you? That young soldier, who was your friend - why did he kill himself?

There was Sir Henry Ashton, who had to leave England with a bad name. And what about Lord Kent's son? What kind of life does he have now? You don't know what you're talking about,' said Dorian coldly. Can your life really be so bad, so evil? You were a fine young man once, but now, when I hear these stories, I wonder. What has happened to the real Dorian Gray? I think I would have to see your soul before I could answer those questions.

I will show you what only God can see. Why not? It's your own work. You've talked enough about evil. Now you must look at it. Inside, he turned to the artist, with smiling lips and cold, hard eyes. Are you sure that you want to? How could that evil and unlovely face be Dorian Gray's? But yes, it was. He went nearer to the picture. It could not be the portrait that he had painted. But yes there was his name written in the corner.

He turned and looked at Dorian Gray with the eyes of a sick man. But this. This is impossible. And you told me that you'd destroyed the picture. It has destroyed me. If this is the face of your soul, then you are more evil than the worst of the stories about you.

Look at that terrible face. Look at it! Basil now knew his secret, and had seen the real Dorian Gray. Violent feelings burned inside Dorian. He picked up a knife from the table.

Then the hate inside him exploded, and like a wild animal, he ran towards Basil, and dug the knife into the artist's neck, again and again and The Hand of a Killer The Picture of Dorian Gray again. The murdered man's head fell forwards, and the blood ran slowly across the table, and down onto the floor. Dorian stood and listened. He could hear nothing - only the drip, drip of blood onto the floor.

He went to the window and looked down into the street. He felt strangely calm. The friend who had painted his portrait had gone out of his life.

That was all.

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He locked the door behind him and went quietly downstairs. His servants were all in bed. He sat down and began to think.

No one had seen Basil in Dorian's house tonight. Basil had gone to Paris, of course, so it would be six months before people asked where he was. Six months! That was more than enough time. Dorian walked up and down the room. Then he took out a book from his desk and began to search for a name.

Alan Campbell. Yes, that was the name that he wanted. He put one of them into his pocket, and he gave the other to his servant. While Dorian waited, he picked up a book and tried to read. But after a time the book fell from his hand. Perhaps Alan Campbell was out of England. Perhaps he would refuse to come.

He was a very clever scientist, and five years ago he and Dorian had been good friends. But now Alan never smiled when he met Dorian. T Dorian stood and listened. He could hear nothing — only the drip, drip of blood onto the floor. Dorian smiled. His voice was hard and cold. Please sit down.

Dorian was silent for a moment; then, very quietly, he said, 'Alan, in a locked room upstairs there is a dead body. I want you to destroy it. There must be nothing left. I know you can do this. I refuse to help you,' Campbell replied. You're the only person who can help me. He took a piece of paper, wrote something on it, and pushed it across the table to Campbell. As Campbell read the piece of paper, his face went white. He looked at Dorian with hate and fear in his eyes.

Dorian gently. But I think that you will help me. Dorian waited. When the servant returned, Dorian took the scientist upstairs to the locked room. As they entered, Dorian remembered that the portrait was uncovered. He turned to cover it, then stopped and stared in horror.

One of the hands in the picture was red with blood. For Dorian, this was more terrible than the dead body in the room. With shaking hands, he quickly covered the picture.

Five hours later Campbell came back downstairs. There was a terrible smell in the room; but the dead body had gone. The Sailor The Sailor 'I will find that man, and kill him like a dog.

He smiled and talked, and looked as young and as good-looking as ever. But his head ached and at dinner he could not eat anything. When Lord Henry asked him if he felt unwell, Dorian said that he was tired and would go home early. At home he felt worse. Although the room was warm, his hands shook with cold. He wanted to forget for a while - to escape from the prison of his real life, and to lose himself in dreams.

At midnight, in old dirty clothes, he left the house again and went to the East End of London. There he knew places where he could get opium - dark, evil places where people bought and sold the beautiful, terrible dreams of opium. He had been there many times before. He found the house that he was looking for and went into a long, low room.

Men were lying on the dirty floor, a sailor was asleep on a table and two women were drinking at the bar. As Dorian hurried up the narrow stairs, the sweet, heavy smell of opium came to meet him and he smiled in pleasure. But in the room he saw a young man who had once been his friend. He turned away, and went downstairs again to drink at the bar. One of the women spoke to him. You're Prince Charming, aren't you?

The sleeping sailor woke up when he heard these words, and as Dorian left the house, the sailor hurried after him. Dorian walked quickly along the road, but as he reached a corner, hands closed around his neck. A man pulled him backwards and pushed him against a wall. Dorian fought wildly, and pulled the hands away. Then he saw the gun in the man's hand. What have I done to you? She killed herself because of you. I've been looking for you for years, but I only knew the name that she used to call you - Prince Charming.

Well, tonight I heard your name, and tonight you're going to die. I've never heard of her. You're crazy,' he cried. Suddenly he had an idea. Take me to the light and look at my face. Then he pushed him towards the light, and in the light he saw the face of a boy of twenty. He was not the man who had destroyed his sister's life. And he walked quickly away. James Vane stared after him in horror. Then a woman's hand touched his arm. That man is only a boy. Her voice was hard. And his pretty face hasn't changed in all that time.

It's true, I promise you.

Among them was the pretty Lady Monmouth and her much older husband. Lady Monmouth was amusing and clever, and seemed to like Dorian Gray very much. One afternoon, as they laughed and talked together during tea, Dorian went out to fetch a flower for Lady Monmouth's dress.

Lord Henry smiled at Lady Monmouth. He's very dangerous. Lord Henry ran out of the room and found Dorian lying unconscious on the floor. You're not well. I'm all right. He had seen a face watching him at the window and he had recognized it.

It was the face of James Vane. The next day he did not leave the house. In fact, for most of the day he stayed in his room, sick with fear. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw again the sailor's face.

He tried to tell himself that he had dreamt it. Yes, it was impossible. Sybil Vane's brother did not know his name, and was probably on his ship at sea. No, of course he had not seen James Vane's face at the window. But the fear stayed with him, dream or no dream. There were shouts and calls from the men, and then a man's body was pulled from the trees. Dorian turned away in horror. Bad luck seemed to follow him everywhere. Two days passed and Dorian grew less afraid. On the third day, a clear, bright winter morning, Dorian joined his friends on a shooting-party.

With Lady Monmouth by his side, he walked to the edge of the forest where the men were shooting at birds and small animals. The cold air and the sounds and smells of the forest filled Dorian with happiness. Suddenly one of the men shot into the trees near them. There were two A man's dead body was pulled from the trees. The Picture of Dorian Gray People began to walk back towards the house.

Lord Henry came over to tell Dorian that the man was dead. Dorian shook his head.

You have everything in the world that a man can want. Forget about this accident. It was just an accident not murder. Mr Gray!And he who made them, those wonderful quickly-moving figures, made them for his own pleasure, and has never asked the public what they wanted, has never cared to know what they wanted, has never allowed the public to dictate to him or influence him in any way but has gone on intensifying his own personality, and producing his own individual work.

Essays of Oscar Wilde London: What is a healthy, or an unhealthy work of art? And though the cenobite realises his personality, it is often an impoverished personality that he so realises. I suppose you were ill. It is to be regretted that a portion of our community should be practically in slavery, but to propose to solve the problem by enslaving the entire community is childish.

It was a frightening book, full of strange ideas and dangerous dreams -dreams that slowly became real for D o r i a n.

DANELLE from Madison
Feel free to read my other articles. One of my extra-curricular activities is racing pigeons. I love frantically.
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