You can’t feel what I feel. You change too often.” “Ah, my dear Basil, that is exactly why I can feel it. Those who are faithful know only the pleasures of love; it is the faithless who know love’s tragedies.” And Lord Henry struck a light on a dainty silver case, and began to smoke a cigarette with a self-conscious and self-satisfied air, as if he had summed up life in a phrase.
