The final mystery is oneself. When one has weighed the sun in the balance, and measured the steps of the moon, and mapped out the seven heavens star by star, there still remains oneself. Who can calculate the orbit of his own soul? — Oscar Wilde, De Profundis. (Fontamara, September 12th 1993) Originally published 1905.… Continue reading Oscar Wilde
I see when men love women. They give them but a little of their lives. But women, when they love, give everything. — Oscar Wilde
How pale the Princess is! Never have I seen her so pale. She is like the shadow of a white rose in a mirror of silver. ― Oscar Wilde, Salomé, (Dover Publications; Unabridged edition, August 14, 2002) Originally published 1891.
It is not wise to find symbols in everything that one sees. It makes life too full of terrors. ― Oscar Wilde, Salomé, (Dover Publications; Unabridged edition, August 14, 2002) Originally published 1891.
The mystery of love is greater than the mystery of death. — Oscar Wilde, Salomé. (Dover Publications; Unabridged edition, August 14, 2002) Originally published 1891.
It is possible, of course, that I may exaggerate about them. I certainly hope that I do; for where there is no exaggeration there is no love, and where there is no love there is no understanding. It is only about things that do not interest one, that one can give a really unbiassed opinion;… Continue reading Oscar Wilde
Her lute hangs shadowed in the apple-tree, While flashing fingers weave the sweet-strung spell Between its chords; and as the wild notes swell, The sea-bird for those branches leaves the sea. — Dante Gabriel Rossetti, “A Sea-Spell (for a Picture),” composed in 1870 to accompany his painting A Sea-Spell (1875-7).