The Picture of Dorian Gray

by Oscar Wilde

All art is quite useless.

Basil Hallward,

elevated his eyebrows and looked at him in amazement through the thin blue wreaths of smoke that curled up in such fanciful whorls from his heavy, opium-tainted cigarette.

But beauty, real beauty, ends where an intellectual expression begins.

I have grown to love secrecy.

I dare say, but somehow it seems to bring a great deal of romance into one’s life. I

I see things differently, I think of them differently.

I find a strange pleasure in saying things to him that I know I shall be sorry for having said.

All influence is immoral—immoral from the scientific point of view.”