Author: Oscar Wilde

Football is all very well a good game for rough girls, but not for delicate boys.

(1854 – 1900) Irish dramatist, novelist & poet

Fathers should neither be seen nor heard; that is the only proper basis for family life.

(1854 – 1900) Irish dramatist, novelist & poet

America is the only country that went from barbarism to decadence without civilization in between.

(1854 – 1900) Irish dramatist, novelist & poet

A man who knows the price of everything and the value of nothing.

(1854 – 1900) Irish dramatist, novelist & poet

To be natural is such a very difficult pose to keep up.

(1854 – 1900) Irish dramatist, novelist & poet

To get back my youth I would do anything in the world, except take exercise, get up early, or be respectable.

(1854 – 1900) Irish dramatist, novelist & poet

Prayer must never be answered: if it is, it ceases to be prayer and becomes correspondence.

(1854 – 1900) Irish dramatist, novelist & poet

True friends stab you in the front.

(1854 – 1900) Irish dramatist, novelist & poet

Anyone who lives within their means suffers from a lack of imagination.

(1854 – 1900) Irish dramatist, novelist & poet

I like Wagner’s music better than anybody’s; it is so loud that one can talk the whole time without people hearing what one says.

(1854 – 1900) Irish dramatist, novelist & poet

A man can be happy with any woman as long as he does not love her.

(1854 – 1900) Irish dramatist, novelist & poet

There can be nothing more frequent than an occasional drink.

(1854 – 1900) Irish dramatist, novelist & poet

How can a woman be expected to be happy with a man who insists on treating her as if she were a perfectly normal human being.

(1854 – 1900) Irish dramatist, novelist & poet

The gods bestowed on Max [Beerbohm] the gift of perpetual old age.

(1854 – 1900) Irish dramatist, novelist & poet

If one could only teach the English how to talk, and the Irish how to listen, society here would be quite civilized.

(1854 – 1900) Irish dramatist, novelist & poet

He has no enemies, but is intensely disliked by his friends.

(1854 – 1900) Irish dramatist, novelist & poet

Work is the curse of the drinking classes.

(1854 – 1900) Irish dramatist, novelist & poet

Always forgive your enemies; nothing annoys them so much.

(1854 – 1900) Irish dramatist, novelist & poet

America is one long expectoration.

(1854 – 1900) Irish dramatist, novelist & poet

Time is waste of money.

(1854 – 1900) Irish dramatist, novelist & poet

He would stab his best friend for the sake of writing an epigram on his tombstone.

(1854 – 1900) Irish dramatist, novelist & poet













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