“A strange sense of loss came over him. He felt that Dorian Gray would never again be to him all that he had been in the past. Life had come between them.... His eyes darkened, and the crowded, flaring streets became blurred to his eyes. When the cab drew up at the theatre, it seemed to him that he had grown years older.”
Oscar Wilde“Oscar Wilde said that sunsets were not valued because we could not pay for sunsets. But Oscar Wilde was wrong”
we can pay for sunsets. We can pay for them by not being Oscar Wilde.“Oscar Wilde: "I wish I had said that." Whistler: "You will, Oscar; you will.”
James McNeill Whistler“Failure is only the name that we give to our mistakes."-Oscar Wilde”
Oscar Wilde“Bosie has insisted on stopping here for sandwiches. He is quite like a narcissus -- so white and gold. I will come either Wednesday or Thursday night to your rooms. Send me a line. Bosie is so tired: he lies like a hyacinth on the sofa, and I worship him. (letter from Oscar Wilde, 1892 - quoted from Love in a dark time by Colm Toibin)”
Oscar Wilde“Poor Aubrey: I hope he will get all right. He brought a strangely new personality to English art, and was a master in his way of fantastic grace, and the charm of the unreal. His muse had moods of terrible laughter. Behind his grotesques there seemed to lurk some curious philosophy…”
Oscar Wilde, The Complete Letters of Oscar Wilde“Any fool can make history, but it takes a genius to write it.”
Oscar Wilde“Yet ruled he not long, so great had been his suffering, and so bitter the fire of his testing, for after the space of three years he died. And he who came after him ruled evilly.”
Oscar Wilde, The Complete Fairy Tales of Oscar Wilde“The public is wonderfully tolerant. It forgives everything except genius.”
Oscar Wilde, The Artist as Critic: Critical Writings of Oscar Wilde“Only dull people are brilliant at breakfast,”
Oscar Wilde“I can write no stately proemAs a prelude to my lay;From a poet to a poemI would dare to say.For if of these fallen petalsOne to you seem fair,Love will waft it till it settlesOn your hair.And when wind and winter hardenAll the loveless land,It will whisper of the garden,You will understand.”
Oscar Wilde