You really must not let yourself become sunburnt. It would be very unbecoming to you.” “What does it matter?” cried Dorian, laughing, as he sat down on the seat at the end of the garden. “It should matter everything to you, Mr. Gray.” “Why?” “Because you have now the most marvellous youth, and youth is the one thing worth having.” “I don’t feel that, Lord Henry.” “No, you don’t feel it now. Some day, when you are old and wrinkled and ugly, when thought has seared your forehead with its lines, and passion branded your lips with its hideous fires, you will feel it, you will feel it terribly.
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