Hesitation of any kind is a sign of mental decay in the young, of physical weakness in the old.
Hesitation of any kind is a sign of mental decay in the young, of physical weakness in the old.
My dear fellow, the truth isn't quite the sort of thing one tells to a nice, sweet, refined girl. What extraordinary ideas you have about the way to behave to a woman!
Any man can be happy with any woman, so long as he doesn't love her.
Each of us has heaven and hell in him, Basil, cried Dorian with a wild gesture of despair.
I am tired of myself to-night. I should like to be somebody else.
I remembered what you had said to me on that wonderful evening we first dined together, about the search for beauty being the real secret of life…
It often seems to me that art conceals the artist far more completely than it ever reveals him.
Mourn for Ophelia, if you like. Put ashes on your head because Cordelia was strangled. Cry out against Heaven because the daughter of Brabantio died. But don't waste your tears over Sibyl Vane. She was less real than they are.
The bright dawn flooded the room, and swept the fantastic shadows into dusky corners, where they lay shuddering.
The wind shook some blossoms from the trees, and the heavy lilac blooms, with their clustering stars, moved to and fro in the languid air. A grasshopper began to chirp by the wall, and like a blue thread a long, thin dragonfly floated past on its brown gauze wings. Lord Henry felt as if he could hear Basil Hallward's heart beating, and wondered what was coming.
To him, man was a being with myriad lives and myriad sensations, a complex multiform creature that bore within itself strange legacies of thought and passion, and whose very flesh was tainted with the monstrous maladies of the dead.
Women are a decorative sex. They never have anything to say, but they say it charmingly.
I could deny it if I liked. I could deny anything if I liked.
Never met such a Gorgon . . . I don't really know what a Gorgon is like, but I am quite sure that Lady Bracknell is one. In any case, she is a monster, without being a myth, which is rather unfair.
As for believing things, I can believe anything, provided that it is quite incredible.
Eu adoro prazeres triviais. São o último refúgio do complexo.
I am too fond of reading books to care to write them.
I should fancy that crime was to them what art is to us, simply a method of procuring extraordinary sensations.
It was an ill-omened place. Death walked there in the sunlight.
No theory of life seemed to him to be of any importance compared with life itself
The common hill-flowers wither, but they blossom again. The laburnum will be as yellow next June as it is now. In a month there will be purple stars on the clematis, and year after year the green night of its leaves will hold its purple stars. But we never get back our youth.
The world is changed because you are made of ivory and gold. The curves of your lips rewrite history.
To reveal art and conceal the artist is art's aim.
Women defend themselves by attacking, just as they attack by sudden and strange surrenders.
I don't like novels that end happily. They depress me so much
Never speak disrespectfully of Society, Algernon. Only people who can't get into it do that.
As he looked back upon man moving through History, he was haunted by a feeling of loss. So much had been surrendered! and to such little purpose!...Hedonism... was to teach man to concentrate himself upon the moments of a life that is but itself a moment.
Even things that are true can be proved.
I asked the question for the best reason possible, for the only reason, indeed, that excuses anyone for asking any question - simple curiosity.
I think you are wrong, Basil, but I won't argue with you. It is only the intellectually lost who ever argue.
It was not intended as a compliment. It was a confession. Now that I have made it, something seems to have gone out of me. Perhaps one should never put one's worship into words.
Oh, brothers! I don't care for brothers. My elder brother won't die, and my younger brothers seem never to do anything else.
The moment one sits down to think, one becomes all nose, or all forehead, or something horrid
There is a fatality about all physical and intellectual distinction, the sort of fatality that seems to dog through history the faltering steps of kings. It is better not to be different from one's fellows. The ugly and the stupid have the best of it in this world. They can sit at their ease and gape at the play. If they know nothing of victory, they are at least spared the knowledge of defeat. They live as we all should live, undisturbed, indifferent, and without disquiet.
Unconsciously he defines for me the lines of a fresh new school, a school that is to have in it all the passion of the romantic spirit, all the perfection of the spirit that is Greek. The harmony of soul and body - how much that is! We in our madness have separated the two, and have invented a realism that is vulgar, an ideality that is void. Harry! If only you knew what Dorian Gray is to me!
Women have no appreciation of good looks-at least, good women have not.
I don't play accurately--any one can play accurately--but I play with wonderful expression. As far as the piano is concerned, sentiment is my forte. I keep science for Life.
Now produce your explanation and pray make it improbable.
As he passed out, he used to look with wonder at the black confessionals and long to sit in the dim shadow of one of them and listen to men and women whispering through the worn grating the true story of their lives.
Every impulse we strangle will only poison us.
I believe that you are really a very good husband but that you are thoroughly ashamed of your own virtues. You are an extraordinary fellow. You never say a moral thing and you never do a wrong thing. Your cynicism is simply a pose.
I was dominated, soul, brain, and power by you. You became to me the visible incarnation of that unseen ideal whose memory haunts us artists like an exquisite dream.
It would kill the past, and when that was dead, he would be free.
Perhaps in nearly every joy, as certainly in every pleasure, cruelty has its place.
The mutilation of the savage has its tragic survival in the self-denial that mars our lives.
There is a fatality about good resolutions - that they are always made too late
We all take such pains to over-educate ourselves. In the wild struggle for existence, we want to have something that endures, and so we fill our minds with rubbish and facts, in the silly hope of keeping our place. The thoroughly well-informed man - that is the modern ideal. And the mind of the thoroughly well-informed man is a dreadful thing. It is like a bric-a-brac shop, all monsters and dust, with everything priced above its proper value.
Women, as some witty Frenchman once put it, inspire us with the desire to do masterpieces and always prevent us from carrying them out.
I hate people who are not serious about meals. It is so shallow of them.
Oh! I don't think I would like to catch a sensible man. I shouldn't know what to talk to him about.
© 2020 Inspirational Stories
© 2020 Inspirational Stories