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Yazar: Oscar Wilde

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"I am glad you appreciate my work at last, Dorian," said the
painter coldly when he had recovered from his surprise. "I never
thought you would."
"Appreciate it? I am in love with it, Basil. It is part of
myself. I feel that."
"Well, as soon as you are dry, you shall be varnished, and
framed, and sent home. Then you can do what you like with
yourself." And he walked across the room and rang the bell for
tea. "You will have tea, of course, Dorian? And so will you,
Harry? Or do you object to such simple pleasures?"

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