Art persists, it timelessly continues.
The more we study Art, the less we care for Nature. What Art really reveals to us is Nature's lack of design, her curious crudities, her extraordinary montony, her absolutely unfinished condition.
Art is Individualism, and Individualism is a disturbing and disintegrating force. Therein lies its immense value. For what it seeks to disturb is monotony of type, slavery of custom, tyranny of habit, and the reduction of man to the level of a machine.
If Nature had been comfortable, mankind would never have invented architecture...In a house, we all feel of the proper proportions. Everything is subordinated to us, fashioned for our use and our pleasure.
Oh, why will parents always appear at the wrong time? Some extraordinary mistake in nature, I suppose.
It seems to me that we all look at Nature too much, and live with her too little.
Romance should never begin with sentiment. It should begin with science and end with a settlement.
Be warned in time, James, and remain, as I do, incomprehensible: to be great is to be misunderstood.
If we men married the women we deserved, we should have a very bad time of it.
The home seems to me to be the proper sphere for the man. And certainly once a man begins to neglect his domestic duties he becomes painfully effeminate, does he not?
Death and vulgarity are the only two facts in the nineteenth century that one cannot explain away.
One can survive everything nowadays except death.
And the wild regrets, and the bloody sweats, None knew so well as I: For he who lives more lives than one More deaths than one must die.
Gossip is charming! History is merely gossip. But scandal is gossip made tedious by morality.
Disobedience, in the eyes of any one who has read history, is man's original virtue. It is through disobedience that progress has been made, through disobedience and through rebellion.
I am but too conscious of the fact that we are born in an age when only the dull are treated seriously, and I live in terror of not being misunderstood.
Thirty-five is a very attractive age. London society is full of women of the very highest birth who have, of their own free choice, remained thirty-five for years.
I suppose society is wonderfully delightful. To be in it is merely a bore. But to be out of it is simply a tragedy.
If one could only teach the English how to talk, and the Irish how to listen, society here would be quite civilized.
Gerald: I suppose society is wonderfully delightful? Lord Illingworth: To be in it is merely a bore. But to be out of it simply a tragedy.
Oh, I love London society! It is entirely composed now of beautiful idiots and brilliant lunatics. Just what society should be.
The only possible society is oneself.
Sometimes the poor are praised for being thrifty. But to recommend thrift to the poor is both grotesque and insulting. It is like advising a man who is starving to eat less.
Now, nothing should be able to harm a man except himself. Nothing should be able to rob a man at all. What a man really has, is what is in him. What is outside of him should be a matter of no importance.
An excellent man; he has no enemies; and none of his friends like him.