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Oscar Wilde

  • Julia Fernandeshas quoted2 years ago
    “Be­cause to in­flu­ence a per­son is to give him one’s own soul. He does not think his nat­ural thoughts, or burn with his nat­ural pas­sions. His vir­tues are not real to him. His sins, if there are such things as sins, are bor­rowed. He be­comes an echo of someone else’s mu­sic, an actor of a part that has not been writ­ten for him.
  • Aphridon18has quoted2 years ago
    Al­gernon

    I hope to­mor­row will be a fine day, Lane.

    Lane

    It never is, sir.

    Al­gernon

    Lane, you’re a per­fect pess­im­ist.
  • mervexehas quoted2 years ago
    "Yes, death. Death must be so beautiful. To lie in the soft brown earth, with the grasses waving above one's head, and listen to silence. To have no yesterday, and no to-morrow. To forget time, to forget life, to be at peace. You can help me. You can open for me the portals of death's house, for love is always with you, and love is stronger than death is."
  • Kedahas quoted9 months ago
    I keep a di­ary in or­der to enter the won­der­ful secrets of my life. If I didn’t write them down, I should prob­ably for­get all about them.
  • mervexehas quoted2 years ago
    "They mean," he said, sadly, "that you must weep with me for my sins, because I have no tears, and pray with me for my soul, because I have no faith, and then, if you have always been sweet, and good, and gentle, the angel of death will have mercy on me. You will see fearful shapes in darkness, and wicked voices will whisper in your ear, but they will not harm you, for against the purity of a little child the powers of Hell cannot prevail."
  • kazimirhas quotedlast year
    But the Catherine Wheel shook her head. “Romance is dead, Romance is dead, Romance is dead,” she murmured. She was one of those people who think that, if you say the same thing over and over a great many times, it becomes true in the end
  • chandanahas quoted2 years ago
    it is always nice to be expected, and not to arrive
  • chandanahas quoted2 years ago
    All thought is immoral. Its very essence is destruction. If you think of anything, you kill it. Nothing survives being thought of
  • Sofiahas quotedlast year
    I don’t want to be at the mercy of my emo­tions. I want to use them, to en­joy them, and to dom­in­ate them.
  • Dayahas quoted8 months ago
    There is a lux­ury in self-re­proach. When we blame ourselves, we feel that no one else has a right to blame us.
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