Best 30 quotes in «the picture of dorian gray quotes» category

He repeated her name over and over again. The birds that were singing in the dew-drenched garden seemed to be telling the flowers about her.

As the dawn was just breaking he found himself close to Covent Garden. The darkness lifted, and, flushed with faint fires, the sky hollowed itself into a perfect pearl. Huge carts filled with nodding lilies rumbled slowly down the polished empty street.

because to influence a person is to give one's own soul.

Dorian, Dorian," she cried, "before I knew you, acting was the one reality of my life. It was only in the theatre that I lived. I thought that it was all true. I was Rosalind one night and Portia the other. The joy of Beatrice was my joy, and the sorrows of Cordelia were mine also. I believed in everything. The common people who acted with me seemed to me to be godlike. The painted scenes were my world. I knew nothing but shadows, and I thought them real. You came—oh, my beautiful love!— and you freed my soul from prison. You taught me what reality really is. To-night, for the first time in my life, I saw through the hollowness, the sham, the silliness of the empty pageant in which I had always played. To-night, for the first time, I became conscious that the Romeo was hideous, and old, and painted, that the moonlight in the orchard was false, that the scenery was vulgar, and that the words I had to speak were unreal, were not my words, were not what I wanted to say. You had brought me something higher, something of which all art is but a reflection.

For these treasures, and everything that he collected in his lovely house, were to be to him means of forgetfulness, modes by which he could escape, for a season, from the fear that seemed to him at times to be almost too great to be borne.

Her flower-like lips touched the withered cheek, and warmed its frost.

a beleza, a verdadeira beleza, acaba onde a expressão intelectual começa. O intelecto é já uma forma de exagero e destrói a harmonia de qualquer rosto.

But do let us go. Dorian, you must not stay here any longer. It is not good for one's morals to see bad acting.

Cloudless, and pierced by one solitary star, a copper-green sky gleamed through the windows.

I can now recreate life in a way that was hidden from me, before.'A dream of form in days of thought:

I cannot repeat an emotion. No one can, except sentimentalists.

It was a poisonous book. The heavy odour of incense seemed to cling about its pages and to trouble the brain. The mere cadence of the sentences, the subtle monotony of their music, so full as it was of complex refrains and movements elaborately repeated, produced in the mind of the lad, as he passed from chapter to chapter, a form of reverie, a malady of dreaming, that made him unconscious of the falling day and creeping shadows.

Kad smo srećni, uvek smo dobri; ali, kada samo dobri, nismo uvek srećni.

Might there not be some curious scientific reason for it all? If thought could exercise its influence upon a living organism, might not thought exercise an influence upon dead and inorganic things? Nay, without thought or conscious desire, might not things external to ourselves vibrate in unison with our moods and passions, atom calling to atom in secret love or strange affinity?

There was a horrible fascination in them all. He saw them at night, and they troubled his imagination in the day. The Renaissance knew of strange manners of poisoning -- poisoning by a helmet and a lighted torch, by an embroidered glove and a jewelled fan, by a gilded pomander and by an amber chain. Dorian Gray had been poisoned by a book. There were moments when he looked on evil simply as a mode through which he could realize his conception of the beautiful.

Siempre se puede ser amable con las personas que no nos importan nada.

The moon hung low in the sky like a yellow skull. From time to time a huge misshapen cloud stretched a long arm across and hid it. The gas-lamps grew fewer, and the streets more narrow and gloomy.

There were poisons so subtle that to know their properties one had to sicken of them. There were maladies so strange that one had to pass through them if one sought to understand their nature.

She trembled all over, and shook like a white narcissus. Then she flung herself on her knees and kissed my hands.

Yet the roses are not less lovely for all that

The tulip-beds across the road flamed like throbbing rings of fire. A white dust tremulous, cloud of orris-root it seemed, hung in the panting air. The brightly coloured parasols danced and dipped like monstrous butterflies.

Those who find beautiful meanings in beautiful things are the cultivated. For these there is hope.

Yet, as has been said of him before, no theory of life seemed to him to be of any importance compared with life itself. He felt keenly conscious of how barren all intellectual speculation is when separated from action and experiment. He knew that the senses, no less than the soul, have their spiritual mysteries to reveal.

The tulip-beds across the road flamed like throbbing rings of fire. A white dust, tremulous cloud of orris-root it seemed, hung in the panting air. The brightly coloured parasols danced and dipped lik monstrous butterflies.

The waving of crooked, false-jeweled fingers gave grotesqueness to the words.

Things that he had dimly dreamed of were suddenly made real to him. Things of which he had never dreamed were gradually revealed.

Those who find ugly meanings in beautiful things are corrupt without being charming. This is a fault. Those who find beautiful meanings in beautiful things are the cultivated. For these there is hope.

You fill me with apprehension. The appeal to Antiquity is fatal to us who are romanticists.

You had leant over the still pool of some Greek woodland, and seen in the water's silent silver the marvel of your own face. And it had all been what art should be, unconscious, ideal, and remote.

You became to me the visible incarnation of that unseen ideal whose memory haunts us artists like an exquisite dream.