Oscar Wilde · 96 pages
Rating: (11.1K votes)
“I am so clever that sometimes I don't understand a single word of what I am saying.”
“Life is one fool thing after another whereas love is two fool things after each other.”
“Dear little Swallow,’ said the Prince, ‘you tell me of marvelous things, but more marvelous than anything is the suffering of men and of women. There is no Mystery so great as Misery.”
“Travel improves the mind wonderfully, and does away with all one’s prejudices.”
“I hate people who talk about themselves, as you do, when one wants to talk about oneself, as I do. ”
“Death is a great price to pay for a red rose,” cried the Nightingale, “and Life is very dear to all. It is pleasant to sit in the green wood, and to watch the Sun in his chariot of gold, and the Moon in her chariot of pearl. Sweet is the scent of the hawthorn, and sweet are the bluebells that hide in the valley, and the heather that blows on the hill. Yet Love is better than Life, and what is the heart of a bird compared to the heart of a man?”
“I like to do all the talking myself. It saves time, and prevents arguments.” “But”
“The fact is, that I told him a story with a moral.” “Ah! that is always a very dangerous thing to do,”
“love is not fashionable any more, the poets have killed it. ”
“I like hearing myself talk. It is one of my greatest pleasures. I often have long conversations all by myself,”
“Common sense, indeed!” said the Rocket indignantly; “you forget that I am very uncommon, and very remarkable. Why, anybody can have common sense, provided that they have no imagination. But I have imagination, for I never think of things as they really are; I always think of them as being quite different. As for keeping myself dry, there is evidently no one here who can at all appreciate an emotional nature. Fortunately for myself, I don’t care. The only thing that sustains one through life is the consciousness of the immense inferiority of everybody else, and this is a feeling that I have always cultivated.”
“You let me play once in your garden, to-day you shall come with me to my garden, which is Paradise.”
“I like hearing myself talk. It is one of my greatest pleasures. I often have long conversations all by myself, and I am so clever that sometimes I don’t understand a single word of what I am saying.”
“He must have a truly romantic nature, for he weeps when there is nothing at all to weep about.”
“¿Debe la alegría vestirse con lo que fabrico el Dolor?”
“And the trees were so glad to have the children back again that they had covered themselves with blossoms, and were waving their arms gently above the children’s heads. ”
“High above the city, on a tall column, stood the statue of the Happy Prince. He was gilded all over with thin leaves of fine gold, for eyes he had two bright sapphires, and a large red ruby glowed on his sword-hilt.”
“My good creature,” cried the Rocket in a very haughty tone of voice, “I see that you belong to the lower orders. A person of my position is never useful. We have certain accomplishments, and that is more than sufficient. I have no sympathy myself with industry of any kind, least of all with such industries as you seem to recommend. Indeed, I have always been of opinion that hard work is simply the refuge of people who have nothing whatever to do.”
“Then you are quite behind the age,” said the Water-rat. “Every good story-teller nowadays starts with the end, and then goes on to the beginning, and concludes with the middle. ”
“Travel improves the mind wonderfully, and does away with all one’s prejudices.” “The”
“Dear little Swallow,” said the Prince, “you tell me of marvellous things, but more marvellous than anything is the suffering of men and of women. There is no Mystery so great as Misery. ”
“She sang of the Love that is perfected by death, of the Love that dies not in the tomb.”
“What is a sensitive person?” said the Cracker to the Roman Candle. “A person who, because he has corns himself, always treads on other people’s toes,” answered the Roman Candle in a low whisper; and the Cracker nearly exploded with laughter.”
“Love is wiser than Philosophy, though he is wise, and mightier than Power, though he is mighty... His lips are sweet as honey, and his breath is like frankincense.”
“What a curious shape you are! May I ask were you born like that, or is it the result of an accident?” “It”
“So the swallow flew over the great city, and saw the rich making merry in their beautiful houses, while the beggars were sitting at the gates. He flew into dark lanes, and saw the white faces of starving children looking out listlessly at the black streets...”
“There is no good talking to him,” said a Dragon-fly, who was sitting on the top of a large brown bulrush; “no good at all, for he has gone away.” “Well, that is his loss, not mine,” answered the Rocket. “I am not going to stop talking to him merely because he pays no attention. I like hearing myself talk. It is one of my greatest pleasures. I often have long conversations all by myself, and I am so clever that sometimes I don’t understand a single word of what I am saying.” “Then you should certainly lecture on Philosophy,” said the Dragon-fly; and he spread a pair of lovely gauze wings and soared away into the sky.”
“— Ce n'est pas en Egypte que je vais, répondit le Martinet. Je vais à la maison de la Mort. La Mort n'est-elle pas la sœur du Sommeil?”
“Your mother betrayed my father as well as her Clan. You have no right to be a medicine cat. No right to even live among the Clans. I'll never forgive you for what you've done! Never!”
“...only one deaf God, who cannot see, remains—claiming all of creation as His own. If people would invest one hundredth of their devotion to this God in the living brothers and sisters amongst whom they stand, we might have a chance of surviving one another. As it is...”
“The truth is that the heroism of your childhood entertainments was not true valor. It was theatre. The grand gesture, the moment of choice, the mortal danger, the external foe, the climactic battle whose outcome resolves all--all designed to appear heroic, to excite and gratify and audience. Gentlemen, welcome to the world of reality--there is no audience. No one to applaud, to admire. No one to see you. Do you understand?Here is the truth--actual heroism receives no ovation, entertains no one. No one queues up to see it. No one is interested.”
“Her father raises his eyebrow as soon as he sees me at the table. Then his eyes narrow, and he stares at me. His eyes take in my tats, which go all the way up my neck and down to my wrists. I never want to hide them, and in truth, his perusal makes me want to pull my sleeves back so he can see every last one. But something tells me he won’t be impressed. “Mom. Dad.” Emily motions toward me. “This is Logan.” She motions back toward them. She’s signing while she talks, and I kind of wish she’d stop. Her mother rushes forward. “Logan, darling,” she gushes. “We’ve heard so much about you.” My heart leaps at the thought that Emily talked about me while she was gone. Maybe she longed for me the same way I longed for her. “It’s wonderful to meet you,” I say as I stick out my hand. She bypasses it and wraps her arms around me. She squeezes me tightly and doesn’t let go for a moment. Then she steps back, her hands still on my upper arms. She squeezes. “Goodness, you’re a solid lump of man, aren’t you?” she says, smiling. She winks at me. “I can see why Emily is so enamored.” Heat creeps up my face. Emily’s dad shoves his hands into his pockets and rocks back on his heels. He nods at me, and I think he grunts. I wouldn’t know if any sound came out of his mouth, but I can tell he just made a noise. One that would dismiss me if I could hear it. I stick my hand out toward him. “Mr. Madison,” I say. Begrudgingly, he reaches for my hand and takes it in a firm grip. I force myself not to squeeze back when he tightens his grip in warning. Instead, I take it. I let him be in control because he’s her father for fuck’s sake. I don’t like it, but I take it.”
“swear, being in a hospital’s like being in a den of vampires. They never get enough of your blood.”
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