《高中英语 The Picture of Dorian Gray道林格雷的画像课外阅读素材.doc》由会员分享，可在线阅读，更多相关《高中英语 The Picture of Dorian Gray道林格雷的画像课外阅读素材.doc（9页珍藏版）》请在金锄头文库上搜索。
1、 The Picture of Dorian Gray道林格雷的画像OSCAR WILDE奥斯卡王尔德by Oscar Wilde CHAPTER 1 The studio was filled with the rich odour of roses, and when the light summer wind stirred amidst the trees of the garden,there came through the open door the heavy scent of the lilac, or the more delicate perfume of the pin
2、k-flowering thorn. From the corner of the divan of Persian saddle-bags on which he was lying, smoking, as was his custom, innumerable cigarettes, Lord Henry Wotton could just catch the gleam of the honey-sweet and honey-coloured blossoms of a laburnum, whose tremulous branches seemed hardly able to
3、bear the burden of a beauty so flamelike as theirs; and now and then the fantastic shadows of birds in flight flitted across the long tussore-silk curtains that were stretched in front of the huge window, producing a kind of momentary Japanese effect, and making him think of those pallid, jade-faced
4、 painters of Tokyo,rough the medium of an art that is necessarily immobile, seek to convey the sense of swiftness and motion. The sullen murmur of the bees shouldering their way through the long unmown grass, or circling with monotonous insistence round the dusty gilt horns of the straggling woodbin
5、e, seemed to make the stillness more oppressive. The dim roar of London was like the bourdon note of a distant organ. In the centre of the room, clamped to an upright easel, stood the full-length portrait of a young man of extraordinary personal beauty, and in front of it, some little distance away,
6、 was sitting the artist himself, Basil Hallward, whose sudden disappearance some years ago caused, at the time, such public excitement and gave rise to so many strange conjectures. As the painter looked at the gracious and comely form he had so skilfully mirrored in his art, a smile of pleasure pass
7、ed across his face, and seemed about to linger there. But he suddenly started up, and closing his eyes,laced his fingers upon the lids, as though he sought to imprison within his brain some curious dream from which he feared he might awake. It is your best work, Basil, the best thing you have ever d
8、one, said Lord Henry languidly. You must certainly send it next year to the Grosvenor. The Academy is too large and too vulgar. Whenever I have gone there, there have been either so many people that I have not been able to see the pictures, which was dreadful, or so many pictures that I have not bee
9、n able to see the people, which was worse. The Grosvenor is really the only place. I dont think I shall send it anywhere, he answered, tossing his head back in that odd way that used to make his friends laugh at him at Oxford. No, I wont send it anywhere. Lord Henry elevated his eyebrows and looked
10、at him in amazement through the thin blue wreaths of smoke that curled up in such fanciful whorls from his heavy, opium-tainted cigarette. Not send it anywhere? 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 yo
11、u 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. 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
12、 ever capable of any emotion. I know you will laugh at me, he replied, but I really cant exhibit it. I have put too much of myself into it. Lord Henry stretched himself out on the divan and laughed. Yes, I knew you would; but it is quite true, all the same. Too much of yourself in it! Upon my word,
13、Basil,I didnt know you were so vain; and I really cant 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
14、intellectual ression and all that. But beauty, real beauty, ends where an intellectual expression begins. Intellect is in itself a mode of exaggeration, and destroysthe harmony of any face. The moment one sits down to think, one becomes all nose, or all forehead, or something horrid. Look at the suc
15、cessful men in any of the learned professions. How perfectly hideous they are! Except, of course, in the Church. But then in the Church they dont 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 creatu
