Children begin by loving their parents; as they grow older they judge them; sometimes they forgive them.

Oscar Wilde

Oscar Wilde

Profession: Dramatist
Nationality: Irish


Children begin by loving their parents; as they grow older they judge them; sometimes they forgive t.. Oscar Wilde

Some suggestions for you :

You might see nothing in him. I see everything in him.

In the strangely simple economy of the world people only get what they give, and to those who have not enough imagination to penetrate the mere outward of things and feel pity, what pity can be given save that of scorn?

Any fool can make history, but it takes a genius to write it.

When our eyes met, I felt that I was growing pale. A curious sensation of terror came over me. I knew that I had come face to face with some one whose mere personality was so fascinating that, if I allowed it to do so, it would absorb my whole nature, my whole soul, my very art itself.

My sermon on the meaning of the manna in the wilderness can be adapted to almost any occasion, joyful, or, as in the present case, distressing. [All sigh.] I have preached it at harvest celebrations, christenings, confirmations, on days of humiliation and festal days.

Utterly, irrevocably, lost.

Don't squander the gold of your days, listening to the tedious, trying to improve the hopeless failure, or giving away your life to the ignorant, the common, and the vulgar.

I am not at all cynical, I have merely got experience, which, however, is very much the same thing.

Well, she wore far too much rouge last night, and not quite enough clothes. That is always a sign of desperation in a woman.

The things people say of a man do not alter a man. He is what he is. Public opinion is of no value whatsoever.

Destiny does not send us heralds. She is too wise or too cruel for that.

You know I am not a champion of marriage. The real drawback to marriage is that it makes one unselfish. And unselfish people are colourless.

Bronze-limbed and well-knit, like a statue wrought by a Grecian, he stood on the sand with his back to the moon, and out of the foam came white arms that beckoned to him, and out of the waves rose dim forms that did him homage. Before him lay his shadow, which was the body of his Soul, and behind him hung the moon in the honey-coloured air.

Cecily: Oh, yes. Dr. Chasuble is a most learned man. He has never written a single book, so you can imagine how much he knows.