The Portrait of Dorian Gray
Description
Vocal Characteristics
Language
EnglishVoice Age
Young Adult (18-35)Accents
British (England - Cockney, Estuary, East End) North American (General)Transcript
Note: Transcripts are generated using speech recognition software and may contain errors.
Dorian made no answer but past listlessly in front of his portrait and turned towards it when he saw he drew back and his cheeks flushed for a moment with pleasure, a look of joy came into his eyes, as if he had recognized himself for the first time. He stood there, motionless and in wonder, dimly conscious that whole word was speaking to him but not catching the meaning of his words. The sense of his own beauty came on him like a revelation. He had never felt it before. Bassel whole words. Compliments had seemed to him to be merely the charming exaggerations of friendship. He had listened to them, laughed at them for gotten them. They had not influenced his nature. Then it come Lord Henry Wadden, with this strange panegyric on youth, his terrible warning of its brevity that had stirred him at the time. And now, as he stood gazing at the shadow of his own loveliness, the full reality of the description flashed across him. Yes, there would be a day when his face would be wrinkled and wise in his eyes, dim and colorless, The grace of this figure broken and deformed. The scarlet would pass away from his lips and the gold steal from his hair. The life that was to make his soul would more his body. He would become dreadful, hideous. And on Koth, as he thought of it, a sharp pang of pain struck through him like a knife and made each delicate fiber of his nature quiver. His eyes deepened in an amethyst, and across them came a mist of tears. He felt as if a hand of ice had been laid on his heart. Don't you like it? Cried whole word at last, stung a little by the lad. Silence not understanding what it men. Oh, of course he likes it, said Lord Henry, who wouldn't like it. It is one of the greatest things in modern art. I will give you anything you like to ask for it. I must have it. It's not my property. Harry. Whose property is it? Dorrans, of course. Answer the painter. He's a very lucky fellow. How sad it is, murmur Dorian Gray, with his eyes still fixed upon his own portrait. How sad it is. I shall grow old and horrible and dreadful, but this portrait will remain always young. It will never be older than this particular day of June If it were only the other way If it were I who is to be always young and the portrait there was to grow old for that For that I would give everything. Yes, there is nothing in the whole world I would not give. I would give my soul for that.