Book · The Picture of Dorian Gray
Page 323 of 490
Author: Oscar Wilde
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How curious it all seemed! And his mother with her Lady Hamilton
face and her moist, wine-dashed lips-he knew what he had got from
her. He had got from her his beauty, and his passion for the
beauty of others. She laughed at him in her loose Bacchante
dress. There were vine leaves in her hair. The purple spilled
from the cup she was holding. The carnations of the painting had
withered, but the eyes were still wonderful in their depth and
brilliancy of colour. They seemed to follow him wherever he went.
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