Maxioms by Oscar Wilde
Feast of Thomas Becket, Archbishop of Canterbury, Martyr, 1170 Come down, O Christ, and help me! reach Thy hand read more
Feast of Thomas Becket, Archbishop of Canterbury, Martyr, 1170 Come down, O Christ, and help me! reach Thy hand For I am drowning in a stormier sea Than Simon on the the lake of Galilee: The wine of life is spilt upon the sand, My heart is as some famine-murdered land Whence all good things have perished utterly, And well I know my soul in Hell must lie If I this night before God's throne must stand. "He sleeps perchance, or rideth to the chase, Like Baal, when his prophets holed that name From morn to noon on Carmel's smitten height." Nay, peace! I shall behold, before the night, The feet of brass, the robe more white than flame, The wounded hands, the weary human face.
Life is far too important a thing ever to talk about. -Oscar Wilde.
Life is far too important a thing ever to talk about. -Oscar Wilde.
Everything popular is wrong.
Everything popular is wrong.
The secret of life is to appreciate the pleasure of being terribly deceived
The secret of life is to appreciate the pleasure of being terribly deceived
The advantage of the emotions is that they lead us astray.
The advantage of the emotions is that they lead us astray.
