Today marks the 160th anniversary of the birth of one of my (many) favorite authors – Oscar Wilde. I devoured The Picture of Dorian Gray as a young man, and it remains a book to which I return from time to time. When I was in Paris, in May, I visited his grave in the Père Lachaise Cemetery, and found myself quite happy meditating a little on his life and work. I won’t bore you with a biography (link below, if interested) or a look at his works – I decided instead to attach here a few great photographs and a few quotes, to allow the man to speak for himself. Happy Birthday, Oscar Wilde, and thank you.
It is what you read when you don’t have to that determines what you will be when you can’t help it.
If one cannot enjoy reading a book over and over again, there is no use in reading it at all.
The books that the world calls immoral are books that show the world its own shame.
Education is an admirable thing, but it is well to remember from time to time that nothing that is worth knowing can be taught.
Never love anyone who treats you like you’re ordinary.
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.
Society exists only as a mental concept; in the real world there are only individuals.
Art is the most intense mode of individualism that the world has known.
If you are not too long, I will wait here for you all my life.
I am so clever that sometimes I don’t understand a single word of what I am saying.
Most people are other people. Their thoughts are someone else’s opinions, their lives a mimicry, their passions a quotation.
Children begin by loving their parents; after a time they judge them; rarely, if ever, do they forgive them.
Always forgive your enemies; nothing annoys them so much.
To live is the rarest thing in the world. Most people exist, that is all.
A thing is not necessarily true because a man dies for it.
The only way to get rid of temptation is to yield to it.
You must have a cigarette. A cigarette is the perfect type of a perfect pleasure. It is exquisite, and it leaves one unsatisfied. What more can one want?
A decent (short) biography of Wilde on Wikipedia