“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 very soul, my very art itself.”—Oscar Wilde, The Picture of Dorian Gray (via funeralforafriendloveliesbleedin)
“What a silly thing love is…it is not half as useful as logic, for it does not prove anything, and it is always telling one of things that are not true. In fact, it is quite unpractical.”—The Nightingale and the Rose, Oscar Wilde (via allbetterthanmisery)
“To accept Wilde’s account as found in his ‘De Profundis’ at Douglas’s expense is to be less than objective. Douglas’s loyalty to the imprisoned Wilde, his financial generosity, and continued concern, must be viewed in the context of a turbulent relationship involving two highly self-centred and opinionated individuals.”—G. A. Cevasco From the Oxford Dictionary of National Biography (via lordalfredbrucedouglas)
“Words! Mere words! How terrible they were! How clear, and vivid, and cruel! One could not escape from them. And yet what a subtle magic there was in them! They seemed to be able to give a plastic form to formless things, and to have a music of their own as sweet as that of viol or of lute. Mere words! Was there anything so real as words?”—Oscar Wilde, The Picture of Dorian Gray (via esotericallyarcane)
“For beauty is the only thing that time cannot harm. Philosophies fall away like sand, creeds follow one another, but what is beautiful is a joy for all seasons, a possession for all eternity.”—Oscar Wilde, ‘The English Renaissance’ (via delicate-poison)
“When one is in love, one always begins by deceiving one’s self, and one always ends by deceiving others. That is what the world calls a romance”—Oscar Wilde, The Picture of Dorian Gray (via i-killed-the-prom-king)
“You silly Arthur! If you knew anything about … anything, which you don’t, you would know that I adore you. Every one in London knows it except you. It is a public scandal the way I adore you. I have been going about for the last six months telling the whole of society that I adore you. I wonder you consent to have anything to say to me. I have no character left at all. At least, I feel so happy that I am quite sure I have no character left at all.”—
Mabel Chiltern - An Ideal Husband, Oscar Wilde
If I could say exactly how I felt right now, this would be it. Oscar Wilde got it right with this one.
“Night after night have I sung of him, though I knew him not: night after night have I told his story to the stars, and now I see him”—The Nightingale and the Rose, Oscar Wilde (via allbetterthanmisery)
“The public has always, and in every age, been badly brought up. They are continually asking Art to be popular, to please their wants of taste, to flatter their absurd vanity, to tell them what they have been told before, to show them what they ought to be tired of seeing, to amuse them when they feel heavy after eating too much, and to distract their thoughts when they are wearied of their own stupidity.”—Oscar Wilde, The Soul of Man under Socialism (via apleasurablemalady)
“Those who find ugly meanings in beautiful things are corrupt without being charming. This is a fault. Those who find beautiful meanings in beautiful things are the cultivated. For these there is hope. They are the elect to whom beautiful things mean only Beauty. There is no such thing as a moral or an immoral book. Books are well written, or badly written. That is all”—Oscar Wilde, The Picture of Dorian Gray (via myfavoritelyricsandwords)
Fun Fact: Apparently Oscar Wilde was 6’3”, which in the 1870s would have been the equivalent of like 6’7”-6’9” tall. He was so ridiculously huge and awkward that one of his friends described him as looking like a “great white caterpillar.” That is all.
No letters passed between my brother and myself on my father’s death. It was as though the revelation of his continued existence was to remain a secret even between ourselves. But again Cyril was not so lucky as I was, for hes aw the announcement in the newspapers and heard it discussed by the older boys over the breakfast-table at Radley. At this time Robert Ross wrote a letter to us, care of the family solicitors. The letter was sent to my brother to answer, and I never saw it myself; indeed I never heard about it until after my brother’s death, when Ross showed me Cyril’s reply and gave me a copy of it. It must be remembered that my brother was only fifteen and a half at the time, and had over five years of bitterness behind him. His letter ran as follows:
Dear Mr. Ross,
Thank you so much for the kind letter you sent me. It was very kind of you to give the flowers for us. I am glad you say that he loved us. I hope that his death was truly penitent; I think he must have been if he joined the Catholic Church and my reverence for the Roman Church is heightened more than ever. It is hard for a young mind like mine to realise why all the sorrow should have come on us, especially so young. And I am here among many happy faces among boys who have never really known an hour of sorrow and I have to keep my sorrow to myself and have no one here to sympathise with me although I am sure my many friends would soon do so if they knew. But when I am solemn and do not join so much in their jokes they stir me up and chide me for my gloominess.
It is of course a long time since I saw father but all I do remember was when we lived happily together in London and how he would come and build brick houses for us in the nursery.
I only hope that it will be a lesson for me and prevent me from falling into the snares and pitfalls of this world. On Saturday I went up to London to see Mrs. Napier and came back on Sunday afternoon.
I first read of his death in a paper at breakfast and luckily one cannot realise so great a loss in cold print or I don’t know what I should have done….And yet the ordinary person reads without emotion and quite dispassionately.
I cannot put my thoughts into words, so I will end.
“The ugly and 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. They never bring ruin upon others, nor ever receive it from alien hands. Your rank and wealth, Henry; my brains, such as they are— my art, whatever it may be worth; Dorian Gray’s good looks— we shall all suffer for what the gods have given us, suffer terribly.”—Oscar Wilde - The Picture of Dorian Gray (via amaracchia)
Out of curiosity, were you serious about wanting a transcript of that University letter? Because I have one more or less written up.
I was totes srs bsns ‘bout it guise!
Just kidding, but yes, I was being serious about it. I like to put the transcritption of each letter in the photo’s description, but sometimes I just can’t understand what the man wrote, that’s why I ask you, fellow Wildeans, for help.
“Pray don’t talk to me about the weather, Mr. Worthing. Whenever people talk to me about the weather, I always feel quite certain that they mean something else. And that makes me so nervous.”—Oscar Wilde, The Importance of Being Earnest (via groovyannie)