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Die strategische Bedeutung des E-Business für die SGE Region (German Edition ). by Jochen Leuf Adlerträger: Lilli Pfaff und die Geschichte von Eintracht Frankfurt (German Edition). by Henni Nachtsheim and Michael Mein Eintracht- Tagebuch: Gras wächst auch nicht schneller, wenn man dran zieht (German Edition).
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The Grosvenor is really the only place. My dear fellow, why? Have you any reason? What odd chaps you painters are! You do anything in the world to gain a reputation. As soon as you have one, you seem to want to throw it away. It is silly of you, for there is only one thing in the world worse than being talked about, and that is not being talked about.

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A portrait like this would set you far above all the young men in England, and make the old men quite jealous, if old men are ever capable of any emotion. I have put too much of myself into it. Upon my word, Basil, I didn't know you were so vain; and I really can't see any resemblance between you, with your rugged strong face and your coal-black hair, and this young Adonis, who looks as if he was made out of ivory and rose-leaves. Why, my dear Basil, he is a Narcissus, and you-- well, of course you have an intellectual expression and all that.

But beauty, real beauty, ends where an intellectual expression begins. Intellect is in itself a mode of exaggeration, and destroys the harmony of any face. The moment one sits down to think, one becomes all nose, or all forehead, or something horrid. Look at the successful men in any of the learned professions.


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How perfectly hideous they are! Except, of course, in the Church. But then in the Church they don't think. A bishop keeps on saying at the age of eighty what he was told to say when he was a boy of eighteen, and as a natural consequence he always looks absolutely delightful. Your mysterious young friend, whose name you have never told me, but whose picture really fascinates me, never thinks. I feel quite sure of that. He is some brainless beautiful creature who should be always here in winter when we have no flowers to look at, and always here in summer when we want something to chill our intelligence.

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Don't flatter yourself, Basil: you are not in the least like him. I know that perfectly well. Indeed, I should be sorry to look like him. You shrug your shoulders? I am telling you the truth.

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There is a fatality about all physical and intellectual distinction, the sort of fatality that seems to dog through history the faltering steps of kings. It is better not to be different from one's fellows. The ugly and the stupid have the best of it in this world. They can sit at their ease and gape at the play.

If they know nothing of victory, they are at least spared the knowledge of defeat. They live as we all should live-undisturbed, indifferent, and without disquiet. They neither bring ruin upon others, nor ever receive it from alien hands. Your rank and wealth, Harry; my brains, such as they are--my art, whatever it may be worth; Dorian Gray's good looks--we shall all suffer for what the gods have given us, suffer terribly. Is that his name? I didn't intend to tell it to you. When I like people immensely, I never tell their names to any one. It is like surrendering a part of them.

I have grown to love secrecy. It seems to be the one thing that can make modern life mysterious or marvellous to us. The commonest thing is delightful if one only hides it. When I leave town now I never tell my people where I am going. If I did, I would lose all my pleasure. It is a silly habit, I dare say, but somehow it seems to bring a great deal of romance into one's life. I suppose you think me awfully foolish about it? You seem to forget that I am married, and the one charm of marriage is that it makes a life of deception absolutely necessary for both parties.

I never know where my wife is, and my wife never knows what I am doing. When we meet--we do meet occasionally, when we dine out together, or go down to the Duke's--we tell each other the most absurd stories with the most serious faces. My wife is very good at it--much better, in fact, than I am. She never gets confused over her dates, and I always do. But when she does find me out, she makes no row at all.

I sometimes wish she would; but she merely laughs at me. You are an extraordinary fellow. You never say a moral thing, and you never do a wrong thing. Your cynicism is simply a pose. The sunlight slipped over the polished leaves.

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In the grass, white daisies were tremulous. Oscar Wilde 7 After a pause, Lord Henry pulled out his watch. I want you to explain to me why you won't exhibit Dorian Gray's picture. I want the real reason.

http://www.inboundsportmarketing.com/components/yates/pagina-de-hombres-solteros-cristianos.php You said it was because there was too much of yourself in it. Now, that is childish. The sitter is merely the accident, the occasion. It is not he who is revealed by the painter; it is rather the painter who, on the coloured canvas, reveals himself. The reason I will not exhibit this picture is that I am afraid that I have shown in it the secret of my own soul.

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Perhaps you will hardly believe it. A grasshopper German answering: antwortend, Anrufbeantwortung. Lord Henry felt as if he could hear Basil Hallward's heart beating, and wondered what was coming. You know we poor artists have to show ourselves in society from time to time, just to remind the public that we are not savages.

With an evening coat and a white tie, as you told me once, anybody, even a stock-broker, can gain a reputation for being civilized.