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Some one has killed herself for love of you. I wish that I had

ever had such an experience. It would have made me in love with

love for the rest of my life. The people who have adored me-there

have not been very many, but there have been some-have always

insisted on living on, long after I had ceased to care for them,

or they to care for me. They have become stout and tedious, and

when I meet them, they go in at once for reminiscences. That

awful memory of woman! What a fearful thing it is! And what an

utter intellectual stagnation it reveals! One should absorb the

colour of life, but one should never remember its details.

Details are always vulgar."

"I must sow poppies in my garden," sighed Dorian.