The Picture of Dorian Gray — книга для чтения (B2)

"You don't understandme, Harry," answered the artist."Of course I am not like him. I knowthat perfectly well. Indeed, I should be sorry to look like him. You shrugyour shoulders? I am telling you the truth.Thereis a fatality about all physical and intellectual distinction, the sort of fatality that seems to dog through history the faltering steps of kings.It is better not to be different from one's fellows. The ugly and the stupid have the best of it in this world. They can sit at their ease and gape at the play. If they knownothing of victory, they are at least spared the knowledge of defeat. They live as we all should live— undisturbed, indifferent, and without disquiet. They neither bring ruin upon others, nor ever receive it from alien hands. Your rank and wealth, Harry; my brains, such as they are—my art, whatever it may be worth; Dorian Gray's goodlooks—we shall all sufferfor what the gods have given us, suffer terribly."

"Dorian Gray?Is that his name?" askedLord Henry, walking across the studio towards Basil Hallward.

"Yes, that is his name. I didn'tintend to tell it to you."