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Quote by Oscar Wilde

Work

The Picture Of Dorian Gray

The story follows the protagonist Dorian Gray, whose portrait ages while he remains youthful, leading to a dark exploration of the consequences of unchecked desires. more

Author

Oscar Wilde
Oscar Wilde

Oscar Wilde, born on October 16, 1854, in Ireland, and died on November 30, 1900, was a renowned Irish writer, playwright, and poet. His works are known for their wit, satire, and unique style, with notable works including 'The Picture of Dorian Gray' and 'Lady Windermere's Fan'. more

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“I hate inconstancy—I loathe, detest, Abhor, condemn, abjure the mortal made Of such quicksilver clay that in his breast No permanent foundation can be laid; Love, constant love, has been my constant guest, And yet last night, being at a masquerade, I saw the prettiest creature, fresh from Milan, Which gave me some sensations like a villain. But soon Philosophy came to my aid, And whisper’d, ‘Think of every sacred tie!’ ‘I will, my dear Philosophy!’ I said, ‘But then her teeth, and then, oh, Heaven! her eye! I’ll just inquire if she be wife or maid, Or neither—out of curiosity.’ ‘Stop!’ cried Philosophy, with air so Grecian (Though she was masqued then as a fair Venetian); ‘Stop!’ so I stopp’d.—But to return: that which Men call inconstancy is nothing more Than admiration due where nature’s rich Profusion with young beauty covers o’er Some favour’d object; and as in the niche A lovely statue we almost adore, This sort of adoration of the real Is but a heightening of the ‘beau ideal.’ ’Tis the perception of the beautiful, A fine extension of the faculties, Platonic, universal, wonderful, Drawn from the stars, and filter’d through the skies, Without which life would be extremely dull; In short, it is the use of our own eyes, With one or two small senses added, just To hint that flesh is form’d of fiery dust. Yet ’tis a painful feeling, and unwilling, For surely if we always could perceive In the same object graces quite as killing As when she rose upon us like an Eve, ’Twould save us many a heartache, many a shilling (For we must get them any how or grieve), Whereas if one sole lady pleased for ever, How pleasant for the heart as well as liver! The heart is like the sky, a part of heaven, But changes night and day, too, like the sky; Now o’er it clouds and thunder must be driven, And darkness and destruction as on high: But when it hath been scorch’d, and pierced, and riven, Its storms expire in water-drops; the eye Pours forth at last the heart’s blood turn’d to tears, Which make the English climate of our years.”

LoveRealityDesirePlatonism
Book:DON JUAN
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“You cannot lose the truth. You must keep it buried, in a box under the stairs in the cellar of your brain. You might even struggle to find it some days. But if it's tossed out, if it's lost... then so are you." Ewen sighed and said, "Sometimes I think the whole of Germany is like that. Hitler invented a fiction for them, and they're all living it... and they've totally lost the truth." He got very quiet. "But why? How? How does a whole country bury the truth and forget where they buried it?”

Reality
Book:Max in the House of Spies: A Tale of World War II
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