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Work is the curse of the drinking class. I can resist everything except temptation. Moderation is a fatal thing - nothing succeeds like excess. We are all of us in the gutter. But some of us are looking at the stars.
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
Gutters
Thing
Drinking
Succeeds
Work
Except
Fatal
Like
Succeed
Moderation
Stars
Resist
Class
Looking
Excess
Everything
Curse
Gutter
Nothing
Temptation
More quotes by Oscar Wilde
The commonest thing is delightful if one only hides it.
Oscar Wilde
It is immoral to use private property in order to alleviate the horrible evils that result from the institutions of private property.
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Cheap editions of great books may be delightful, but cheap editions of great men are absolutely detestable
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The old believe everything, the middle-aged suspect everything, the young know everything.
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I never forget a face, but in your case I'll make an exception.
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Young men want to be faithful, and are not. Old men want to be faithless, and cannot.
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The Americans are identical to the British in all respects except, of course, language.
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Some things are more precious because they don't last long.
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Then there was a man who said, 'I never knew what real happiness was until I got married by then it was too late'
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When I had to fill in my immigration papers, I gave my age as 19, and my profession as genius I added that I had nothing to declare except my talent.
Oscar Wilde
I put my talent in my work, I save my Genius for my life.
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Bad art is a great deal worse than no art at all.
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A poet can survive everything but a misprint.
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As for the virtuous poor, one can pity them of course, but one cannot possibly admire them.
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Foxhunting... the unspeakable pursuing the inedible.
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The studio was filled with the rich odour of roses, and when the light summer wind stirred amidst the trees of the garden, there came through the open door the heavy scent of the lilac, or the more delicate perfume of the pink-flowering thorn.
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Words! Mere words! How terrible they were! How clear, and vivid, and cruel! One could not escape from them. And yet what a subtle magic there was in them! They seemed to be able to give a plastic form to formless things, and to have a music of their own as sweet as that of viol or of lute. Mere words! Was there anything so real as words?
Oscar Wilde
I can believe anything provided it is quite incredible.
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The sky was pure opal now.
Oscar Wilde
No crime is vulgar, but all vulgarity is crime.
Oscar Wilde