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Oscar Wilde
Quote #215
How else but through a broken heart May Lord Christ enter in?
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And all, but Lust, is turned to dust In Humanity's machine.
I have said to you to speak the truth is a painful thing. To be forced to tell lies is much worse.
The vilest deeds like poison weeds Bloom well in prison air; It is only what is good in man That wastes and withers there; Pale Anguish kee…
A thing is, according to the mode in which one looks at it.
I know not whether Laws be right, Or whether Laws be wrong; All that we know who lie in gaol Is that the wall is strong; And that each day …
It seems to me that we all look at Nature too much, and live with her too little.
And alien tears will fill for him Pity's long-broken urn, For his mourners will be outcast men, And outcasts always mourn.
The supreme vice is shallowness.
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