Best 1857 quotes of Oscar Wilde on MyQuotes

At six o'clock we cleaned our cells, At seven all was still, But the sough and swing of a mighty wing The prison seemed to fill, For the Lord of Death with icy breath Had entered in to kill.

At twilight, nature is not without loveliness, though perhaps its chief use is to illustrate quotations from the poets.

Authority is quite degrading.

A work of art is the unique result of a unique temperament.

A virtuous abstinence from the joys of pederasty comes most easily to those who have no taste for it.

A well-tied tie is the first serious step in life.

A woman's life revolves in curves of emotions. It is upon lines of intellect that a man's life progresses.

A woman who cannot make her mistakes charming, is only a female.

A woman will flirt with anybody in the world as long as other people are looking on.

A work of art is the unique result of a unique temperament. Its beauty comes from the fact that the author is what he is. ...Art is the most intense mode of Individualism that the world has known. I am inclined to say that it is the only real mode of Individualism that the world has known. ...Art is Individualism.

A work of art is the unique result of a unique temperament. Its beauty comes from the fact that the author is what he is. It has nothing to do with the fact that other people want what they want.

Bad manners make a journalist.

Bad art is a great deal worse than no art at all.

Bad artists always admire each others work.

Bad artists always admire each other's work. They call it being large-minded and free from prejudice. But a truly great artist cannot conceive of life being shown, or beauty fashioned, under any conditions other than those he has selected.

Beauty is a form of Genius--is higher, indeed, than Genius, as it needs no explanation. It is one of the great facts of the world, like sunlight, or springtime, or the reflection in the dark waters of that silver shell we call the moon. It cannot be questioned. It has divine right of sovereignty. It makes princes of those who have it.

Beauty is a form of genius -- is higher, indeed, than genius, as it needs no explanation.

Beauty ...is of the great facts in the world like sunlight, or springtime, or the reflection in dark water of that silver shell we call the moon.

Beauty is the only thing that time cannot harm.

Beauty is the only thing that time cannot harm. Philosophies fall away like sand, and creeds follow one another like the withered leaves of Autumn; but what is beautiful is a joy for all seasons and a possession for all eternity.

Because sometimes you have to do something bad to do something good.

Before Turner there was no fog in London.

Be happy, be happy; you shall have your red rose. I will build it out of music by moonlight, and stain it with my own heart's-blood. All that I ask of you in return is that you will be a true lover, for Love is wiser than Philosophy, though she is wise, and mightier than Power, though he is mighty.

Behind joy and laughter there may be a temperament, coarse, hard and callous. But behind sorrow there is always sorrow. Pain, unlike pleasure, wears no mask. ... For this reason there is no truth comparable to sorrow. There are times when sorrow seems to me to be the only truth. Other things may be illusions of the eye or the appetite, made to blind the one and cloy the other, but out of sorrow have the worlds been built, and at the birth of a child or a star there is pain.

Behind Joy and Laughter there may be a temperament, coarse, hard and callous. But behind Sorrow there is always Sorrow. Pain, unlike Pleasure, wears no mask.

Being natural is simply a pose, and the most irritating pose I know.

Believe me, no civilized man ever regrets a pleasure, and no uncivilized man ever knows what a pleasure is.

Better the rule of One, whom all obey, than to let clamorous demagogues betray our freedom with the kiss of anarchy.

Between men and women there is no friendship possible. There is passion, enmity, worship, love, but no friendship.

Be yourself, because others are already taken.

Be yourself; everyone else is taken.

Bigamy is having one wife too many. Monogamy is the same.

Bigamy ? It's having one wife too much... ...Monogamy ? It's the same.

Biography lends to death a new terror.

Books are never finished, They are merely abandoned.

Books are well written, or badly written. That is all.

Bunbury? Oh, he was quite exploded. Exploded! Was he the victim of a revolutionary outrage? I was not aware that Mr. Bunbury was interested in social legislation. If so, he is well punished for his morbidity. My dear Aunt Augusta, I mean he was found out! The doctors found out that Bunbury could not , that is what I mean—so Bunbury died. He seems to have had great confidence in the opinion of his physicians.

But beauty, real beauty, ends where an intellectual expression begins. Intellect is in itself a mode of exaggeration, and destroys the harmony of any face.

But beauty, real beauty, ends where an intellectual expression begins. Intellect is in itself a mode of exaggeration, and destroys the harmony of any face. The moment one sits down to think, one becomes all nose, or all forehead, or something horrid. Look at the successful men in any of the learned professions. How perfectly hideous they are! Except, of course, in the Church. But then in the Church they don't think.

But beauty, real beauty, ends where an intellectual expression begins.

But then one regrets the loss even of one's worst habits. Perhaps one regrets them the most. They are such an essential part of one's personality.

But what is the good of friendship if one cannot say exactly what one means? Anybody can say charming things and try to please and to flatter, but a true friend always says unpleasant things, and does not mind giving pain. Indeed, if he is a really true friend he prefers it, for he knows that then he is doing good.

But what of life whose bitter hungry sea Flows at our heels, and gloom of sunless night Covers the days which never more return? Ambition, love and all the thoughts that burn We lose too soon, and only find delight In withered husks of some dead memory.

But what world says that [I'm wicked]? It can only be the next world. This world and I are on excellent terms.

But whether I become a believer or remain an agnostic, my belief or disbelief must derive its source from within, not from without. I, myself, must create its symbols. The transcendental is that which produces its own form. I will never discover its secret if I do not find it in my own heart; if I do not possess it already I shall never be able to acquire it.

By doing just a little every day, I can gradually let the task completely overwhelm me.

By persistently remaining single a man converts himself into a permanent public temptation.

By the artificial separation of soul and body men have invented a Realism that is vulgar and an Idealism that is void.

California is an Italy without its art.

Can they feel, I wonder, those white silent people we call the dead?