Quotes About Wilde

Wilde stepped off the train in Oakland wearing a Spanish sombrero, a velvet suit, a puce cravat, yellow gloves, and buckled shoes, and wended his way across the bay to the Bohemian Club, where he is reported to have drunk his hosts under the table.

Relevance, Wilde once explained, was a careless habit that should not be over-indulged.

La coerenza è l'estremo rifugio degli uomini privi di fantasia, sono intervenuto io. Ancora Wilde, non sapevo resistere.

Life is one fool thing after another whereas love is two fool things after each other.

Never met such a Gorgon . . . I don't really know what a Gorgon is like, but I am quite sure that Lady Bracknell is one. In any case, she is a monster, without being a myth, which is rather unfair.

Paradox though it may seem - and paradoxes are always dangerous things - it is none the less true that Life imitates art far more than Art imitates life.

I love scrapes. They are the only things that are never serious. Oh, that's nonsense, Algy. You never talk anything but nonsense. Nobody ever does.

Were Wilde's panthers grateful or rebellious? Eventually, of course, one prefers a rebellious bedfellow. But it requires a degree of gratitude to get him into bed in the first place

Too much work, and no vacation, Deserves at least a small libation. So hail! my friends, and raise your glasses, Work's the curse of the drinking classes.

Oh, I love London Society! It has immensely improved. It is entirely composed now of beautiful idiots and brilliant lunatics. Just what Society should be.

The English country gentleman galloping after the fox – the unspeakable in full pursuit of the uneatable.

Death and vulgarity are the only two facts in the nineteenth century that one cannot explain away.

M. Zola sits down to give us a picture of the Second Empire. Who cares for the Second Empire now? It is out of date. Life goes faster than Realism, but Romanticism is always in front of Life.

Keep love in your heart. A life without it is like a sunless garden when the flowers are dead.

You let me play once in your garden, to-day you shall come with me to my garden, which is Paradise.

memory, like a horrible malady, was eating his soul away

That certainly seems a satisfactory explanation, does it not? – Yes dear, if you can believe him. – I don't. But that does not affect the wonderful beauty of his answer.

I have no ambition to play the part of a mother, and why should I interfere with her illusions? I find it hard enough to keep my own.

My Salome is a mystic the sister of Salammbô a Saint Thérèse who worships the moon.

I am not going to Egypt,' said the bird. 'I am going to the House of Death.' He kissed the prince and fell down dead at his feet.

Ah! That must be Aunt Augusta. Only relatives, or creditors, ever ring in that Wagnerian manner.

Pleasure is the only thing worth having a theory about

Are all men bad? Oh, all of them, my dear, all of them, without any exception. And they never grow any better. Men become old, but they never become good.

Why should he watch the hideous corruption of his soul?