The Picture of Dorian Grey, Oscar Wilde.

The classic tale of narcissism, casual cruelty and karma.



“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.”

Dorian Grey is a young, beautiful, rich socialite. His portrait is painted by good friend, and he wishes for the portrait to age instead of himself, with surprising results. (Or not so surprising to those with a touch more wisdom.)


Oscar Wilde’s magnus opus is a delicately embroidered, deeply detailed, seductively prosed work of beauty.


“I don’t want to be at the mercy of my emotions. I want to use them, to enjoy them, and to dominate them.”  



There is no chance in the world that I would dare to attempt reviewing such a hallowed work. All I do know is that The Picture of Dorian Gray
is something you have to read once in your life.


“Nothing can cure the soul but the senses, just as nothing can cure the senses but the soul.”  


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