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
An ordinary man away from home giving advice.
Its failings notwithstanding, there is much to be said in favor of journalism in that by giving us the opinion of the uneducated, it keeps us in touch with the ignorance of the community.
There is much to be said in favour of modern journalism. By giving us the opinions of the uneducated, it keeps us in touch with the ignorance of the community.
It is a great mistake for men to give up paying compliments, for when they give up saying what is charming, they give up thinking what is charming.
People are very fond of giving away what they need most themselves. It is what I call the depth of generosity.
It is the confession, not the priest, that gives us absolution.
Life cheats us with shadows. We ask it for pleasure. It gives it to us with bitterness and disappointment in its train.
While we look to the dramatist to give romance to realism, we ask of the actor to give realism to romance.
A subject that is beautiful in itself gives no suggestion to the artist. It lacks imperfection.
Don't give a woman advice; one should never give a woman anything she can't wear in the evening.
Sometimes it takes courage to give into temptation.
He is fond of being misunderstood. It gives him a post of vantage.
I hope to-morrow will be a fine day, Lane. It never is, sir. Lane, you're a perfect pessimist. I do my best to give satisfaction, sir.
I am jealous of everything whose beauty does not die. I am jealous of the portrait you have painted of me. Why should it keep what I must lose? Every moment that passes takes something from me and gives something to it. Oh, if it were only the other way! If the picture could change, and I could be always what I am now! Why did you paint it? It will mock me some day—mock me horribly!