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I must say to myself that I ruined myself, and that nobody great or small can be ruined except by his own hand. I am quite ready to say so. ... Terrible as was what the world did to me, what I did to myself was far more terrible still.
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
World
Quite
Hand
Small
Conformity
Hands
Ruined
Stills
Except
Still
Nobody
Must
Terrible
Great
Ready
More quotes by Oscar Wilde
The old believe everything, the middle-aged suspect everything, the young know everything.
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I live constantly in the fear of not being misunderstood.
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A beggar hates his benefactor as much as he hates himself for begging.
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We live, I regret to say, in an age of Big Data hype.
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Disobedience, in the eyes of any one who has read history, is man's original virtue. It is through disobedience that progress has been made, through disobedience and through rebellion.
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Whatever, in fact, is modern in our life we owe to the Greeks. Whatever is an anachronism is due to mediaevalism.
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I like looking at geniuses and listening to beautiful people.
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Friendship is far more tragic than love. It lasts longer.
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Comfort is the only thing our civilization can give us.
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It is better to be beautiful than to be good. But... it is better to be good than to be ugly.
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Men become old, but they never become good.
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Though of all poses a moral pose is the most offensive, still to have a pose at all is something.
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Starvation, not sin, is the parent of modern crime.
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Life under a good government is rarely dramatic life under a bad government is always so.
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The wild Bee reels from bough to bough With his furry coat and his gauzy wing, Now in a lily cup, and now Setting a jacinth bell a-swing, In his wandering.
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Art only begins where Imitation ends.
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Sphinxes without secrets.
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I know not whether Laws be right, Or whether Laws be wrong All that we know who be in jail Is that the wall is strong And that each day is like a year, A year whose days are long.
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They are always asking a writer why he does not write like somebody else, or a painter why he does not paint like somebody else, quite oblivious of the fact that if either of them did anything of the kind he would cease to be an artist.
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Pleasure is Nature's test, her sign of approval.
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