“My dear Dorian,” answered Lord Henry, taking a cigarette from his case and producing a gold-latten matchbox, “the only way a woman can ever reform a man is by boring him so completely that he loses all possible interest in life. If you had married this girl, you would have been wretched. Of course, you would have treated her kindly. One can always be kind to people about whom one cares nothing. But she would have soon found out that you were absolutely indifferent to her. And when a woman finds that out about her husband, she either becomes dreadfully dowdy, or wears very smart bonnets that some other woman’s husband has to pay for. …………But women never know when the curtain has fallen. They always want a sixth act, and as soon as the interest of the play is entirely over, they propose to continue it. If they were allowed their own way, every comedy would have a tragic ending, and every tragedy would culminate in a farce………… I am afraid that women appreciate cruelty, downright cruelty, more than anything else. They have wonderfully primitive instincts. We have emancipated them, but they remain slaves looking for their masters, all the same. They love being dominated.”

Then I rose from the table, lit a cigarette, and flung myself down on a luxuriously cushioned couch that stood facing the screen. The screen was an old one, of gilt Spanish leather, stamped and wrought with a rather florid Louis-Quatorze pattern. I scanned it curiously, wondering if ever before it had concealed the secret of a man’s life.

Should I move the screen aside, after all? Why not let it stay there? What was the use of knowing? If the thing was true, it would be terrible. If it was not true, why trouble about it?

“I am going. I don’t wish to be unkind, but I can’t see you again. You have disappointed me.”

“I understand what you mean, and I believe in this girl. Any one you love must be marvelous, and any girl who has the effect you describe must be fine and noble. To spiritualize one’s age—that is something worth doing. If this girl can give a soul to those who have lived without one, if she can create the sense of beauty in people whose lives have been sordid and ugly, if she can strip them of their selfishness and lend them tears for sorrows that are not their own, she is worthy of all your adoration, worthy of the adoration of the world. This marriage is quite right. I did not think so at first, but I admit it now. The gods made Sibyl Vane for you. Without her you would have been incomplete.”

“She regarded me merely as a person in a play. She knows nothing of life. I want you and Basil to come with me some night and see her act. I have not the slightest fear of the result. You are certain to acknowledge her genius. When all that is settled, I shall take a West End theater and bring her out properly. She will make the world as mad as she has made me.”

“The snow was very plentiful. And clouds were very few.
When a weather-beaten sparrow Through, a mansion window flew.
Her eye fell on a golden cage. A sweet love song she heard. Sung by a pet canary there. A handsome yellow bird.
He said to her, "Miss Sparrow, I've been struck by Cupid's arrow, would you share my cage with me?"
She looked up at his castle, with its ribbon and its tassel, and in plaintive tones said she:       
“Good-bye, little yellow bird, I'd rather brave the cold. On a leafless tree, than a prisoner be. In a cage of gold.     

The spoiled and petted yellow bird could scarce believe it true, that a common sparrow should refuse, A bird with blood so blue.
He told her the advantages, Of riches and of gold.
She answered that her liberties, for gold could not be sold.
She said, "I must be going." But he cried "No, no, it’s snowing. And the wintry winds do blow,
Stay with me, my little dearie. For without you 'twould be dreary."
But she only sighed "Ah, no."                             
"Good-bye, little yellow bird, I'd gladly mate with you.
I love you, little yellow bird, But I love my freedom, too.
So good-bye, little yellow bird, I'd rather brave the cold.
On a leafless tree. Than a prisoner be. In a cage of gold."