I am changed, and the mere touch of Sibyl Vane's hand makes me forget you and all your wrong, fascinating, poisonous, delightful theories." "And those are ... ?" asked Lord Henry, helping himself to some salad.
"Oh, your theories about life, your theories about love, your theories about pleasure.

All your theories, in fact, Harry." "Pleasure is the only thing worth having a theory about," he answered in his slow melodious voice.

"But I am afraid I cannot claim my theory as my own.

It belongs to Nature, not to me.

Pleasure is Nature's test, her sign of approval.