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Literary Essay
Dorian Gray- Oscar Wilde
“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

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
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
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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Source: Elizabeth Wilde
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.
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