Kitap · The Picture of Dorian Gray
Sayfa 439 / 490
Yazar: Oscar Wilde
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And yet if it had been merely an illusion, how terrible it was to
think that conscience could raise such fearful phantoms, and give
them visible form, and make them move before one! What sort of
life would his be if, day and night, shadows of his crime were to
peer at him from silent corners, to mock him from secret places,
to whisper in his ear as he sat at the feast, to wake him with
icy fingers as he lay asleep! As the thought crept through his
brain, he grew pale with terror, and the air seemed to him to
have become suddenly colder. Oh! in what a wild hour of madness
he had killed his friend! How ghastly the mere memory of the
scene! He saw it all again. Each hideous detail came back to him
with added horror. Out of the black cave of time, terrible and
swathed in scarlet, rose the image of his sin. When Lord Henry
came in at six o'clock, he found him crying as one whose heart
will break.
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