1 Of course I flatter him dreadfully.
2 Indeed, I should be sorry to look like him.
3 I couldn't be happy if I didn't see him every day.
4 Your aunt was quite right in what she said of him.
5 It was reckless of me, but I asked Lady Brandon to introduce me to him.
6 It is not merely that I paint from him, draw from him, sketch from him.
7 He is never more present in my work than when no image of him is there.
8 "I am all expectation, Basil," continued his companion, glancing at him.
9 I find him in the curves of certain lines, in the loveliness and subtleties of certain colours.
10 I find a strange pleasure in saying things to him that I know I shall be sorry for having said.
11 You will bitterly reproach him in your own heart, and seriously think that he has behaved very badly to you.
12 I won't tell you that I am dissatisfied with what I have done of him, or that his beauty is such that art cannot express it.
13 Don't take away from me the one person who gives to my art whatever charm it possesses: my life as an artist depends on him.
14 "I don't think I shall send it anywhere," he answered, tossing his head back in that odd way that used to make his friends laugh at him at Oxford.
15 Harry," said Basil Hallward, looking him straight in the face, "every portrait that is painted with feeling is a portrait of the artist, not of the sitter.
16 Because, without intending it, I have put into it some expression of all this curious artistic idolatry, of which, of course, I have never cared to speak to him.
17 Lord Henry elevated his eyebrows and looked at him in amazement through the thin blue wreaths of smoke that curled up in such fanciful whorls from his heavy, opium-tainted cigarette.
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