It is literally my favorite book in the history of all literature.

I could ramble about it for hours (and, believe me, I have), but on the note of Lord Henry’s cynicism: he’s one of those fascinating people who talk the talk but don’t walk the walk, and Dorian’s decision to do the walking for him is basically the crux of the novel’s tragedy. Dorian may have sold his soul, but who encouraged him — however unintentionally — to do it? Boom. Everything he says is fucking golden because he feels no obligation to act upon it. 

I had also (rather callously) broken up with a boyfriend of mine a few hours before I read the bits about Dorian and Sybil. I was absolutely horrified — my behavior was by no means as inhumane as Dorian’s after Sybil loses her talent, but I was still apathetic to what my ex was feeling. Dorian is so immersed with his own pursuit of pleasure (and therefore, he believes, happiness) that he completely disregards everyone else’s. The Picture of Dorian Gray was a mirror that reflected how terrible I was acting. Wilde taught me some invaluable life lessons about how to properly treat people.

The novel is even more fascinating, by the way, in its historical context. Parts of it are shocking to us now; just think about how 19th century England reacted to it.