t like Velasquez and yet be as dull as possible. Basil erested me once, and t  ion for you and t you  motive of .quot;

    quot;I ; said Dorian e of sadness in ;But dont people say t ;

    quot;O does not seem to me to be at all probable. I kno Basil  t of man to o ty. It ;

    quot;  I ; said tcently after he had spoken.

    quot;I  you  doesnt suit you. All crime is vulgar, just as all vulgarity is crime. It is not in you, Dorian, to commit a murder. I am sorry if I  your vanity by saying so, but I assure you it is true. Crime belongs exclusively to t blame t degree. I s crime o t art is to us, simply a metraordinary sensations.quot;

    quot;A metions? Do you t a man  tell me t.quot;

    quot;O too often,quot; cried Lord ;t is one of t important secrets of life. I s murder is alake. One s one cannot talk about after dinner. But let us pass from poor Basil. I , but I cant. I dare say o t tor  ing over c t ten years ing ;

    Dorian rolled across to stroke t, a large, grey-plumaged bird  and tail, t self upon a bamboo perced fingers touc, it dropped te scurf of crinkled lids over black, glasslike eyes and began to sway backwards and forwards.

    quot;Yes,quot; inued, turning round and taking  of ; quot;ing e gone off. It seemed to me to  somet  an ideal. o be great friends, o be a great artist.   separated you? I suppose s a  bores   rait  t since . Oelling me years ago t you  it doo Selby, and t it  mislaid or stolen on t it back?  a pity! it erpiec