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My writing has gone to bits - like my character. I am simply a self-conscious nerve in pain.

Oscar Wilde

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Oscar Wilde
Age: 46 †
Born: 1854
Born: October 16
Died: 1900
Died: November 30
Author
Essayist
Journalist
Novelist
Opinion Journalist
Playwright
Poet
Prosaist
Short Story Writer
Writer
Dublin city
Oscar O'Flahertie Wills Wilde
Oscar Fingal O'Flahertie Wills Wilde
Simply
Bits
Gone
Pain
Character
Self
Nerve
Writing
Nerves
Like
Conscious

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The condition of perfection is idleness: the aim of perfection is youth.
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I knew nothing but shadows and I thought them to be real.
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Why is it that at a bachelor's establishment the servants invariably drink the champagne.
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To be popular I must be mediocre.
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People fashion their God after their own understanding. They make their God first and worship him afterwards.
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The world seemed to me fine because you were in it, and goodness more real because you lived.
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Women, as some witty Frenchman once put it, inspire us with the desire to do masterpieces and always prevent us from carrying them out.
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The emotions of man are stirred more quickly than man’s intelligence.
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No crime is vulgar, but all vulgarity is crime.
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What men call the shadow of the body is not the shadow of the body, but is the body of the soul.
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One should always eat muffins quite calmly. It is the only way to eat them.
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I am very glad I have travelled. Travel improves the mind wonderfully, and does away with all one's prejudices.
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Between the optimist and the pessimist, the difference is droll. The optimist sees the doughnut the pessimist the hole!
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M. Zola is determined to show that, if he has not got genius, he can at least be dull.
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The girl never really lived, and so she has never really died.
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Beauty is a form of genius -- is higher, indeed, than genius, as it needs no explanation.
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Life has been your art. You have set yourself to music. Your days are your sonnets.
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The quivering, ardent sunlight showed him the lines of cruelty round the mouth as clearly as if he had been looking into a mirror after he had done some dreadful thing.
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The unread is always better than the unreadable.
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The one charm about the past is that it is the past. But women never know when the curtain has fallen.
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