You, who know all the secrets of life, tell me how to charm Sibyl Vane to love me! I want to make Romeo jealous, I want the dead lovers of the world to hear our laughter, and grow sad. I want a breath...
You may fancy yourself safe and think yourself strong. But a chance tone of color in a room or a morning sky, a particular perfume that you had once loved and that brings subtle memories with it, a li...
You love the beauty that you can see and touch and handle, the beauty that you can destroy, and do destroy, but of the unseen beauty of life, of the unseen beauty of a higher life, you know nothing.
You have never been poor, and never known what ambition is.
You and I will always be friends.Yet you poisoned me with a book once. I should not forgive that.
Yet each man kills the thing he loves,By each let this be heard,Some do it with a bitter look,Some with a flattering word,The coward does it with a kiss,The brave man with a sword!Some kill their love...
Yes,’ he cried, ‘you have killed my love! You used to stir my imagination. Now you don’t even stir my curiosity. You simply produce no effect. I loved you because you were marvelous, because you had g...
Women love us for our defects. If we have enough of them, they will forgive us everything, even our intellects.
What the artist isalways looking for is the mode of existence in which soul and body areone and indivisible: in which the outward is expressive of the inward: inwhich form reveals.
What of Art?-It is a malady.--Love?-An Illusion.--Religion?-The fashionable substitute for Belief.--You are a sceptic.-Never! Scepticism is the beginning of Faith.--What are you?-To define is to limit...
Thirty-five is a very attractive age. London society is full of women of the very highest birth who have, of their own free choice, remained thirty-five for years.
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 a...
There is a luxury in self-reproach. When we blame ourselves we feel that no one else has a right to blame us.
There are few of us who have not sometimes wakened before dawn, either after one of those dreamless nights that make one almost enamoured of death, or one of those nights of horror and misshapen joy,...
Then I am sorry I did not stay away longer I like being missed.
The studio was filled with the rich odour of roses, and when the light summer wind stirred amidst the trees of the garden, there came through the open door the heavy scent of the lilac, or the more de...
The proper basis for marriage is a mutual misunderstanding.
The most terrible thing about it is not that it breaks one’s heart—hearts are made to be broken—but that it turns one’s heart to stone.
The burden of this world is too great for one man to bear, and the world’s sorrow too heavy for one heart to suffer.
The bond of all companionship, whether in marriage or in friendship, is conversation