To become the spectator of one's own life, as Harry says, is to escape the suffering of life.
I have grown sick of shadows. You are more to me than all art can ever be.
How little you can know of love if you say it mars your art!
No Artist is ever morbid. The artist can express everything.
It was the living death of his own soul that troubled him.
I want to place her on a pedestal of gold, and to see the world worship the woman who is mine.
Marriage is hardly a thing that one can do now and then, Harry. Except in America, rejoined Lord Henry, languidly.
Please, tell me the truth. The truth, who knows the truth? You've heart knows the truth.
Why should he watch the hideous corruption of his soul?
You cut life to pieces with your epigrams.
The dim roar of London was like the bourdon note of a distant organ.
Soul and body, body and soul-how mysterious they were!
Romantic art begins with its climax.
The world has cried out against us both, but it has always worshipped you.
Women spoil every romance by trying to make it last forever.
To me, Beauty is the wonder of wonders. It is only shallow people who do not judge by appearances.
There was blood on the painted feet, as though the thing had dripped--blood even on the hand that had not held the knife.
As for being poisoned by a book, there is no such thing as that. Art has no influence upon action.
The past could always be annihilated. Regret, denial, or forgetfulness could do that.
As it was, we always misunderstood ourselves, and rarely understood others.
The joy of a caged bird was in her voice.
I cannot repeat an emotion. No one can, except sentimentalists.
Life is a great disappointment.
If a man treats life artistically, his brain is his heart.