I have grown to love secrecy. It seems.. Oscar Wilde

I have grown to love secrecy. It seems to be the one thing that can make modern life mysterious or marvellous to us.

Oscar Wilde

Profession: Dramatist
Nationality: Irish

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When a woman marries again, it is because she detested her first husband. When a man marries again, it is because he adored his first wife. Women try their luck; men risk theirs.

For myself, the only immortality I desire is to invent a new sauce.

Leave us some unreality. Do not make us too offensively sane.

Do you really think it is weakness that yields to temptation? I tell you that there are terrible temptations which it requires strength, strength and courage to yield to.

The world seemed to me fine because you were in it, and goodness more real because you lived.

I hardly think that any Socialist, nowadays, would seriously propose that an inspector should call every morning at each house to see that each citizen rose up and did manual labour for eight hours.

After some time, twelve o'clock boomed from the tall tower at Westminster, and yet at each stroke of the sonorous bell the night seemed to tremble.

They did not understand a single word of what he was saying, but that made no matter, for they put their heads on one side, and looked wise, which is quite as good as understanding a thing, and very much easier.

One knows so well the popular idea of health: the English country gentleman galloping after a fox - the unspeakable in full pursuit of the unbeatable.

Those who see any difference between soul and body have neither.

For us there is only one season, the season of sorrow. The very sun and moon seem taken from us. Outside, the day may be blue and gold, but the light that creeps down through the thickly-muffled glass of the small iron-barred window beneath which one sits is grey.

You will always be fond of me. I represent to you all the sins you never had the courage to commit.

As the door closed behind them, the painter flung himself down on a sofa, and a look of pain came into his face.

The sea, as Euripides says in one of his plays about Iphigenia, washes away the stains and wounds of the world.

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