o t here before.

    quot;And yet,quot; continued Lord  graceful  ic of  on days, quot;I believe t if one man o live out ely, o give form to every feeling, expression to every t, reality to every dream--I believe t t  all turn to to somet may be. But t man amongst us is afraid of ilation of ts tragic survival in t mars our lives. e are punis rive to strangle broods in ts sin, for action is a mode of purification. Not tion of a pleasure, or t. to get rid of a temptation is to yield to it. Resist it, and your soul gro o itself,  its monstrous la  t events of take place in t is in t t sins of take place also. You, Mr. Gray, you yourself, e boy s t error, day-dreams and sleeping dreams ain your c;

    quot;Stop!quot; faltered Dorian Gray, quot;stop! you be knoo say. to you, but I cannot find it. Dont speak. Let me t me try not to t;

    For nearly ten minutes ood tionless, ed lips and eyes strangely brig entirely fres  to o  Basils friend o , and ouc c ouc t  ing and to curious pulses.

    Music irred . Music roubled imes. But music  articulate. It  a ne rat it created in us. ords! Mere  escape from t le magic to be able to give a plastic form to formless to  as t of viol or of lute. Mere hing so real as words?

    Yes; t  understood. ood to  seemed to   kno?

    itle smile, Lord c  intensely interested.  t  een, a book o t  ting the lad was!

    ed a marvellous bold touc rue refinement and perfect delicacy t in art, at any rate comes only from strengthe sil