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I love the French language... it's a delightful language, especially to curse with. It's like whopping your ass with silk.
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
Ass
Curse
French
Especially
Language
Love
Whopping
Like
Silk
Delightful
More quotes by Oscar Wilde
Never love anyone who treats you like you're ordinary.
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Know thyself' was written over the portal of the antique world. Over the portal of the new world, 'Be thyself' shall be written.
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No art ever survived censorship no art ever will.
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Illusion is the first of all pleasures.
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There can be nothing more frequent than an occasional drink.
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She wore far too much rouge last night and not quite enough clothes. That is always a sign of despair in a woman.
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There are only two tragedies in life: one is not getting what one wants, and the other is getting it.
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There is only good art and mediocre art.
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After the first glass, you see things as you wish they were. After the second, you see things as they are not. Finally, you see things as they really are, and that is the most horrible thing in the world.
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The emotions of man are stirred more quickly than man’s intelligence.
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The basis of action is lack of imagination. It is the last resource of those who know not how to dream.
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Don't tell me that you have exhausted Life. When a man says that, one knows that life has exhausted him.
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The first duty in life is to be as artificial as possible. What the second duty is no one has as yet discovered.
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The most terrible thing about it is not that it breaks one’s heart—hearts are made to be broken—but that it turns one’s heart to stone.
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Each man lived his own life and paid his own price for living it. The only pity was one had to pay so often for a single fault. One had to pay over and over again, indeed. In her dealings with man, Destiny never closed her accounts.
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I tremble with pleasure when I think that on the very day of my leaving prison both the laburnum and the lilac will be blooming in the gardens, and that I shall see the wind stir into restless beauty the swaying gold of the one, and make the other toss the pale purple of its plumes, so that all the air shall be Arabia for me.
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There are times when sorrow seems to me to be the only truth.
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No theory of life seemed to him to be of any importance compared with life itself
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I never saw so many well-dressed, well-fed, business-looking Bohemians in my life.
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We Irish will never achieve anything but we are the greatest talkers since the Greeks
Oscar Wilde
