Oscar Wilde
Oscar Wilde
Oscar Fingal O'Flahertie Wills Wildewas an Irish playwright, novelist, essayist, and poet. After writing in different forms throughout the 1880s, he became one of London's most popular playwrights in the early 1890s. He is remembered for his epigrams, his novel The Picture of Dorian Gray, his plays, as well as the circumstances of his imprisonment and early death...
NationalityIrish
ProfessionNovelist
Date of Birth16 October 1854
CityDublin, Ireland
CountryIreland
It would leave no room for developments and I intend to develop in many directions.
There are few of us who have not sometimes wakened before dawn, either after one of those dreamless nights that make one almost enamoured of death, or one of those nights of horror and misshapen joy, when through the chambers of the brain sweep phantoms more terrible than reality itself, and instinct with that vivid life that lurks in all grotesques, and that lends to Gothic art its enduring vitality, this art being, one might fancy, especially the art of those whose minds have been troubled with the malady of reverie.
Truth is independent of facts always.
Every great man nowadays has his disciples, and it is usually Judas who writes the biography.
Other people are quite dreadful. The only possible society is oneself.
The basis of action is lack of imagination. It is the last resource of those who know not how to dream.
The fact is, the public make use of the classics of a country as a means of checking the progress of Art. They degrade the classics into authorities. They use them as bludgeons for preventing the free expression of Beauty in new forms.
The sky was pure opal now.
She behaves as if she was beautiful. Most American women do. It is the secret of their charm.
Some things are too important to be taken seriously.
The only difference between a caprice and a lifelong passion is that the caprice lasts a little longer.
Never speak disrespectfully of Society, Algernon. Only people who can’t get into it do that.
Punctuality is the thief of time
The Book of Life begins with a man and a woman in a garden. It ends with Revelations.