Maxioms by Oscar Wilde
What we have to do, what at any rate it is our duty to do, is to revive the old read more
What we have to do, what at any rate it is our duty to do, is to revive the old art of Lying.
It often happens that the real tragedies of life occur in such an inartistic manner that they hurt us by read more
It often happens that the real tragedies of life occur in such an inartistic manner that they hurt us by their crude violence, their absolute incoherence, their absurd want of meaning, their entire lack of style.
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.
It is exactly because a man cannot do a thing that he is a proper judge of it
It is exactly because a man cannot do a thing that he is a proper judge of it
Foxhunting... the unspeakable pursuing the inedible.
Foxhunting... the unspeakable pursuing the inedible.
