"Портрет Дориана Грея / The Picture of Dorian Gray" kitabından alıntı

And yet, what was there to be afraid of? He was not a schoolboy or a girl. It was silly to be afraid. “Let us go and sit out of the sun. I don’t want you to be burnt by the sun.” “What does that matter?” cried Dorian Gray, laughing as he sat down on the seat at the end of the garden. “It should matter very much to you, Mr. Gray.” “Why?” “Because you are young, and youth is the best thing in the world.” “I don’t feel that, Lord Henry.” “No, you don’t feel it now. Some day when you are old and ugly you will feel it terribly. Now, wherever you go, you charm the world. Will it always be so? You have a wonderfully beautiful face, Mr. Gray.” “I don’t think.” “Don’t frown. It is true. The gods have been good to you. But what the gods give they quickly take away.[18] You have only a few years in which to really live, perfectly and fully. Live your life now, while you are still young!” Suddenly the painter appeared at the door and waved at them to come in. They turned to each other and smiled. “I am waiting,” he cried. “Do come in. The light is quite perfect, and you can bring your drinks.”