Портрет Дориана Грея

           And,yet,who,thatknewanythingaboutLife,wouldsurrenderthechanceofremainingalwaysyoung,howeverfantasticthatchancemightbe,orwithwhatfatefulconsequencesitmightbefraught? Besides,wasitreallyunderhiscontrol? Haditindeedbeenprayerthathadproducedthesubstitution? Mighttherenotbesomecuriousscientificreasonforitall? Ifthoughtcouldexerciseitsinfluenceuponalivingorganism,mightnotthoughtexerciseaninfluenceupondeadandinorganicthings? Nay,withoutthoughtorconsciousdesire,mightnotthingsexternaltoourselvesvibrateinunisonwithourmoodsandpassions,atomcallingtoatominsecretloveofstrangeaffinity? Butthereasonwasofnoimportance. Hewouldneveragaintemptbyaprayeranyterriblepower. Ifthepicturewastoalter,itwastoalter.Thatwasall. Whyinquiretoocloselyintoit? 

           Fortherewouldbearealpleasureinwatchingit. Hewouldbeabletofollowhismindintoitssecretplaces. Thisportraitwouldbetohimthemostmagicalofmirrors. Asithadrevealedtohimhisownbody,soitwouldrevealtohimhisownsoul. Andwhenwintercameuponit,hewouldstillbestandingwherespringtremblesonthevergeofsummer. Whenthebloodcreptfromitsface,andleftbehindapallidmaskofchalkwithleadeneyes,hewouldkeeptheglamourofboyhood. Notoneblossomofhislovelinesswouldeverfade. Notonepulseofhislifewouldeverweaken. LikethegodsoftheGreeks,hewouldbestrong,andfleet,andjoyous. Whatdiditmatterwhathappenedtothecolouredimageonthecanvas? Hewouldbesafe. Thatwaseverything.