Only love can keep anyone alive...
You know I have loved him always. But we are very poor. Who, being loved, is poor? Oh, no one. I hate my riches. They are a burden...
When a golden girl can win Prayer from out the lips of sin, When the barren almond bears, And a little child gives away its tears, Then shall all the house be still And peace come to Canterville.
We should treat all the trivial things of life seriously, and all the serious things of life with sincere and studied triviality.
The moment one sits down to think, one becomes all nose, or all forehead, or something horrid.
I find him in the curves of certain lines, in the loveliness and subtleties of certain colours.
You have always told me it was Ernest. I have introduced you to every one as Ernest. You answer to the name of Ernest. You look as if your name was Ernest. You are the most earnest-looking person I ever saw in my life. It is perfectly absurd your saying that your name isn’t Ernest.
You have never been poor, and never known what ambition is.
Sometimes, the unnecessary is necessary.
It is better to repent a sin than regret the loss of a pleasure.
The world is made by the singer for the dreamer.
There were opium-dens, where one could buy oblivion, dens of horror where the memory of old sins could be destroyed by the madness of sins that were new.
Behind Joy and Laughter there may be a temperament, coarse, hard and callous. But behind Sorrow there is always Sorrow. Pain, unlike Pleasure, wears no mask.
Any place you love is the world to you.
There were sins whose fascination was more in the memory than in the doing of them, strange triumphs that gratified the pride more than the passions, and gave to the intellect a quickened sense of joy, greater than any joy they brought, or could ever bring, to the senses.
Well, in the first place girls never marry the men they flirt with. Girls don’t think it right.
To begin with, I dined there on Monday, and once a week is quite enough to dine with one’s own relations.
Yes; poor Bunbury is a dreadful invalid. Well, I must say, Algernon, that I think it is high time that Mr. Bunbury made up his mind whether he was going to live or to die. This shillyshallying with the question is absurd.
Algy, you always adopt a strictly immoral attitude towards life. You are not quite old enough to do that.
I hope to-morrow will be a fine day, Lane. It never is, sir. Lane, you’re a perfect pessimist. I do my best to give satisfaction, sir.