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Literary Essay
Dorian Gray- Oscar Wilde
Introduction
“Basil Hallward is what I think I am: Lord Henry what the world thinks me: Dorian what I would like to be- in other ages, perhaps.” source: link

This is a quote taken from a letter which Oscar Wilde wrote as an introduction to a later version of the Picture of Dorian Gray. This explanation about Wilde's choice of characters interested me. Whilst reading, I began looking for signs montrer Wilde's relationship between the three main characters; Basil Hallward, Lord Henry Wotton and Dorian Gray. I will try to explain each of the characters relation...
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posted by LeggoMyGreggo
CHAPTER 1:

The studio was filled with the rich odour of roses, and when the light summer wind stirred amidst the trees of the garden, there came through the open door the heavy scent of the lilac, ou the plus delicate perfume of the pink-flowering thorn.

From the corner of the divan of Persian saddle-bags on which he was lying, smoking, as was his custom, innumerable cigarettes, Lord Henry Wotton could just catch the gleam of the honey-sweet and honey-coloured blossoms of a laburnum, whose tremulous branches seemed hardly able to ours the burden of a beauty so flamelike as theirs; and now and...
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posted by LeggoMyGreggo
1
Against these turbid turquoise skies
The light and luminous balloons
Dip and drift like satin moons,
Drift like silken butterflies;

Reel with every windy gust,
Rise and reel like dancing girls,
Float like strange transparent pearls,
Fall and float like silver dust.

Now to the low leaves they cling,
Each with coy fantastic pose,
Each a petal of a rose
Straining at a gossamer string.

Then to the tall trees they climb,
Like thin globes of amethyst,
Wandering opals keeping tryst
With the rubies of the lime.
posted by LeggoMyGreggo
One morning the old Water-rat put his head out of his hole. He had bright beady eyes and stiff grey whiskers and his tail was like a long bit of black india-rubber. The little ducks were swimming about in the pond, looking just like a lot of yellow canaries, and their mother, who was pure white with real red legs, was trying to teach them how to stand on their heads in the water.

"You will never be in the best society unless toi can stand on your heads," she kept saying to them; and every now and then she showed them how it was done. But the little ducks paid no attention to her. They were so...
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posted by LeggoMyGreggo
And there was silence in the House of Judgment, and the Man came naked before God.

And God opened the Book of the Life of the Man.

And God a dit to the Man, 'Thy life hath been evil, and thou hast shown cruelty to those who were in need of succour, and to those who lacked help thou hast been amer and hard of heart. The poor called to thee and thou didst not hearken, and thine ears were closed to the cry of My afflicted. The inheritance of the fatherless thou didst take unto thyself and thou didst send the foxes into the vineyard of thy neighbour's field. Thou didst take the pain of the children...
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posted by LeggoMyGreggo
Every afternoon, as they were coming from school, the children used to go and play in the Giant's garden.

It was a large lovely garden, with soft green grass. Here and there over the herbe stood beautiful fleurs like stars, and there were twelve peach-trees that in the spring-time broke out into delicate blossoms of rose and pearl, and in the autumn bore rich fruit. The birds sat on the trees and sang so sweetly that the children used to stop their games in order to listen to them. "How happy we are here!" they cried to each other.

One jour the Giant came back. He had been to visit his friend...
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posted by LeggoMyGreggo
High above the city, on a tall column, stood the statue of the Happy Prince. He was gilded all over with thin leaves of fine gold, for eyes he had two bright sapphires, and a large red ruby glowed on his sword-hilt.

He was very much admired indeed. "He is as beautiful as a weathercock," remarked one of the Town Councillors who wished to gain a reputation for having artistic tastes; "only not quite so useful," he added, fearing lest people should think him unpractical, which he really was not.

"Why can't toi be like the Happy Prince?" asked a sensible mother of her little boy who was crying for...
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posted by LeggoMyGreggo
One evening there came into his soul the desire to fashion an image of The Pleasure that abideth for a Moment. And he went forth into the world to look for bronze. For he could only think in bronze.

But all the bronze of the whole world had disappeared, nor anywhere in the whole world was there any bronze to be found, save only the bronze of the image of The Sorrow that endureth for Ever.

Now this image he had himself, and with his own hands, fashioned, and had set it on the tomb of the one thing he had loved in life. On the tomb of the dead thing he had most loved had he set this image of his...
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posted by LeggoMyGreggo
     THE oleander on the wall
Grows crimson in the dawning light,
Though the grey shadows of the night
Lie yet on Florence like a pall.

The dew is bright upon the hill,
And bright the blossoms overhead,
But ah! the grasshoppers have fled,
The little Attic song is still.

Only the leaves are gently stirred
par the soft breathing of the gale,
And in the almond-scented vale
The lonely nightingale is heard.

The jour will make thee silent soon,
O nightingale sing on for love!
While yet upon the shadowy grove
Splinter the arrows of the moon.

Before across the silent lawn
In vert de la mer, mer vert, vert de mer mist the morning steals,
And to love's frightened eyes reveals
The long white fingers of the dawn

Fast climbing up the eastern sky
To grasp and slay the shuddering night,
All careless of my heart's delight,
ou if the nightingale should die.
posted by LeggoMyGreggo
TWO crownèd Kings, and One that stood alone
With no green weight of laurels round his head,
But with sad eyes as one uncomforted,
And wearied with man's never-ceasing moan
For sins no bleating victim can atone,
And sweet long lips with tears and kisses fed.
Girt was he in a vêtement black and red,
And at his feet I marked a broken stone
Which sent up lilies, dove-like, to his knees.
Now at their sight, my cœur, coeur being lit with flame
I cried to Beatricé, 'Who are these?'
And she made answer, knowing well each name,
'Æschylos first, the seconde Sophokles,
And last (wide stream of tears!) Euripides.
posted by LeggoMyGreggo
She a dit that she would dance with me if I brought her red roses," cried the young Student; "but in all my garden there is no red rose."

From her nest in the holm-oak arbre the Nightingale heard him, and she looked out through the leaves, and wondered.

"No red rose in all my garden!" he cried, and his beautiful eyes filled with tears. "Ah, on what little things does happiness depend! I have read all that the wise men have written, and all the secrets of philosophy are mine, yet for want of a red rose is my life made wretched."

"Here at last is a true lover," a dit the Nightingale. "Night after night...
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posted by LeggoMyGreggo
The King's son was going to be married, so there were general rejoicings. He had waited a whole an for his bride, and at last she had arrived. She was a Russian Princess, and had driven all the way from Finland in a sledge drawn par six reindeer. The sledge was shaped like a great golden swan, and between the swan's wings lay the little Princess herself. Her long ermine-cloak reached right down to her feet, on her head was a tiny casquette, cap of silver tissue, and she was as pale as the Snow Palace in which she had always lived. So pale was she that as she drove through the streets all the people wondered....
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posted by LeggoMyGreggo
"A cynic is a man who knows the price of everything but the value of nothing."
"A little sincerity is a dangerous thing, and a great deal of it is absolutely fatal."
"A man can't be too careful in the choice of his enemies."
"A man's face is his autobiography. A woman's face is her work of fiction."
"A poet can survive everything but a misprint."
"A thing is not necessarily true because a man dies for it."
"A true friend stabs toi in the front."
"A work of art is the unique result of a unique temperament."
"Ah, well, then I suppose I shall have to die beyond my means."
"Alas, I am dying beyond my means."...
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