Quotes About Engagement

It is always worth while asking a question, though it is not always worth while answering one.

I adore political parties. They are the only place left to us where people don't talk politics.

Well, I know, of course, how important it is not to keep a business engagement, if one wants to retain any sense of the beauty of life.

Ah! I have talked quite enough for today, said Lord Henry, smiling. All I want now is to look at life. You may come and look at it with me, if you care to.

I never talk during music--at least, during good music. If one hears bad music, it is one's duty to drown it in conversation.

I am afraid it is quite clear, Cecily, that neither of us is engaged to be married to any one.

I don't think I would care to catch a sensible man. I shouldn't know what to talk to him about.

I have come up to town expressly to propose to her. Algernon. I thought you had come up for pleasure? . . . I call that business.

then suddenly become fascinated by some one else. He would be a wonderful study.

An admirable idea! Mr. Worthing, there is just one question I would like to be permitted to put to you. Where is your brother Ernest? We are both engaged to be married to your brother Ernest, so it is a matter of some importance to us to know where your brother Ernest is at present.

But I didn't say he was married. I said he was engaged to be married. There is a great difference. I have a distinct remembrance of being married, but I have no recollection at all of being engaged. I am inclined to think that I never was engaged.

I am prevented from coming in consequence of a subsequent engagement. I think that would be a rather nice excuse: it would have all the surprise of candour.

Forgive my asking you to use your mind. It is a thing which no novelist should expect of his reader...

It is not too much to say I was piqued to the tonsils.

It was a fine cow, as cows go, but, like so many cows, it lacked sustained dramatic interest.

You're one of those guys who can make a party just by leaving it. It's a great gift.

A]lways get to the dialogue as soon as possible. I always feel the thing to go for is speed. Nothing puts the reader off more than a big slab of prose at the start. (Interview, The Paris Review , Issue 64, Winter 1975)

The thought of being engaged to a girl who talked openly about fairies being born because stars blew their noses, or whatever it was, frankly appalled me.

At a time when she was engaged to Stilton Cheesewright, I remember recording in the archives that she was tall and willowy with a terrific profile and luxuriant platinum blond-hair, the sort of girl who might, as far as looks were concerned, have been the star unit of the harem of one of the better-class sultans.

What ho!' I said. 'What ho!' said Motty. 'What ho! What ho!' 'What ho! What ho! What ho!' After that it seemed rather difficult to go on with the conversation.

I once got engaged to his daughter Honoria, a ghastly dynamic exhibit who read Nietzsche and had a laugh like waves breaking on a stern and rockbound coast.

I will be your wife, Bertie.' There didn't seem much to say to this except 'Oh, thanks.

What ho!" I said. "What ho!" said Motty. "What ho! What ho!" "What ho! What ho! What ho!" After that it seemed rather difficult to go on with the conversation.

If it is bad to be all dressed up and no place to go, it is almost worse to be full of talk and to have no one to talk it to.