📝 您未登录，登录后完成练习可保存成绩、查看最佳记录。
总字符
0
正确字符
0
错误字符
0
错误率
0.00%
耗时(秒)
0
速度 WPM
0
0 / 63
1Lord Henry smiled. "People are very fond of giving away what they need most themselves. It is what I call the depth of
2generosity." "Oh, Basil is the best of fellows, but he seems to me to be just a bit of a Philistine. Since I have known
3you, Harry, I have discovered that." "Basil, my dear boy, puts everything that is charming in him into his work. The
4consequence is that he has nothing left for life but his prejudices, his principles, and his common sense. The only
5artists I have ever known who are personally delightful are bad artists. Good artists exist simply in what they make,
6and consequently are perfectly uninteresting in what they are. A great poet, a really great poet, is the most unpoetical
7of all creatures. But inferior poets are absolutely fascinating. The worse their rhymes are, the more picturesque they
8look. The mere fact of having published a book of second-rate sonnets makes a man quite irresistible. He lives the
9poetry that he cannot write. The others write the poetry that they dare not realize." "I wonder is that really so,
10Harry?" said Dorian Gray, putting some perfume on his handkerchief out of a large, gold-topped bottle that stood on the
11table. "It must be, if you say it. And now I am off. Imogen is waiting for me. Don't forget about to-morrow. Good-bye."
12As he left the room, Lord Henry's heavy eyelids drooped, and he began to think. Certainly few people had ever interested
13him so much as Dorian Gray, and yet the lad's mad adoration of some one else caused him not the slightest pang of
14annoyance or jealousy. He was pleased by it. It made him a more interesting study. He had been always enthralled by the
15methods of natural science, but the ordinary subject-matter of that science had seemed to him trivial and of no import.
16And so he had begun by vivisecting himself, as he had ended by vivisecting others. Human life--that appeared to him the
17one thing worth investigating. Compared to it there was nothing else of any value. It was true that as one watched life
18in its curious crucible of pain and pleasure, one could not wear over one's face a mask of glass, nor keep the
19sulphurous fumes from troubling the brain and making the imagination turbid with monstrous fancies and misshapen dreams.
20There were poisons so subtle that to know their properties one had to sicken of them. There were maladies so strange
21that one had to pass through them if one sought to understand their nature. And, yet, what a great reward one received!
22How wonderful the whole world became to one! To note the curious hard logic of passion, and the emotional coloured life
23of the intellect--to observe where they met, and where they separated, at what point they were in unison, and at what
24point they were at discord--there was a delight in that! What matter what the cost was? One could never pay too high a
25price for any sensation. He was conscious--and the thought brought a gleam of pleasure into his brown agate eyes--that
26it was through certain words of his, musical words said with musical utterance, that Dorian Gray's soul had turned to
27this white girl and bowed in worship before her. To a large extent the lad was his own creation. He had made him
28premature. That was something. Ordinary people waited till life disclosed to them its secrets, but to the few, to the
29elect, the mysteries of life were revealed before the veil was drawn away. Sometimes this was the effect of art, and
30chiefly of the art of literature, which dealt immediately with the passions and the intellect. But now and then a
31complex personality took the place and assumed the office of art, was indeed, in its way, a real work of art, life
32having its elaborate masterpieces, just as poetry has, or sculpture, or painting. Yes, the lad was premature. He was
33gathering his harvest while it was yet spring. The pulse and passion of youth were in him, but he was becoming
34self-conscious. It was delightful to watch him. With his beautiful face, and his beautiful soul, he was a thing to
35wonder at. It was no matter how it all ended, or was destined to end. He was like one of those gracious figures in a
36pageant or a play, whose joys seem to be remote from one, but whose sorrows stir one's sense of beauty, and whose wounds
37are like red roses. Soul and body, body and soul--how mysterious they were! There was animalism in the soul, and the
38body had its moments of spirituality. The senses could refine, and the intellect could degrade. Who could say where the
39fleshly impulse ceased, or the psychical impulse began? How shallow were the arbitrary definitions of ordinary
40psychologists! And yet how difficult to decide between the claims of the various schools! Was the soul a shadow seated
41in the house of sin? Or was the body really in the soul, as Giordano Bruno thought? The separation of spirit from matter
42was a mystery, and the union of spirit with matter was a mystery also. He began to wonder whether we could ever make
43psychology so absolute a science that each little spring of life would be revealed to us. As it was, we always
44misunderstood ourselves and rarely understood others. Experience was of no ethical value. It was merely the name men
45gave to their mistakes. Moralists had, as a rule, regarded it as a mode of warning, had claimed for it a certain ethical
46efficacy in the formation of character, had praised it as something that taught us what to follow and showed us what to
47avoid. But there was no motive power in experience. It was as little of an active cause as conscience itself. All that
48it really demonstrated was that our future would be the same as our past, and that the sin we had done once, and with
49loathing, we would do many times, and with joy. It was clear to him that the experimental method was the only method by
50which one could arrive at any scientific analysis of the passions; and certainly Dorian Gray was a subject made to his
51hand, and seemed to promise rich and fruitful results. His sudden mad love for Sibyl Vane was a psychological phenomenon
52of no small interest. There was no doubt that curiosity had much to do with it, curiosity and the desire for new
53experiences, yet it was not a simple, but rather a very complex passion. What there was in it of the purely sensuous
54instinct of boyhood had been transformed by the workings of the imagination, changed into something that seemed to the
55lad himself to be remote from sense, and was for that very reason all the more dangerous. It was the passions about
56whose origin we deceived ourselves that tyrannized most strongly over us. Our weakest motives were those of whose nature
57we were conscious. It often happened that when we thought we were experimenting on others we were really experimenting
58on ourselves. While Lord Henry sat dreaming on these things, a knock came to the door, and his valet entered and
59reminded him it was time to dress for dinner. He got up and looked out into the street. The sunset had smitten into
60scarlet gold the upper windows of the houses opposite. The panes glowed like plates of heated metal. The sky above was
61like a faded rose. He thought of his friend's young fiery-coloured life and wondered how it was all going to end. When
62he arrived home, about half-past twelve o'clock, he saw a telegram lying on the hall table. He opened it and found it
63was from Dorian Gray. It was to tell him that he was engaged to be married to Sibyl Vane.
🎉 全部完成！共 63 行