Everything is dangerous, my dear fellow. If it wasn't so, life wouldn't be worth living.
Oscar WildeRead
the costume of the nineteenth century is detestable. It is so sombre, so depressing. Sin is the only real colour-element left in modern life.
Interpretation
Oscar Wilde critiques the dreariness of 19th-century fashion and implies that sin brings vibrancy to life.
In this quote, Oscar Wilde expresses his disdain for the dullness and gloominess of 19th-century attire, suggesting that societal norms have stripped life of its colors and vibrancy. He provocatively claims that the only real 'color' in modern life comes from sin, implying that moral transgressions add a certain richness and complexity that is otherwise missing in a conformist society.
In practice
In a lecture about fashion history, one might quote Wilde to illustrate the cultural shifts in aesthetics.
Everything is dangerous, my dear fellow. If it wasn't so, life wouldn't be worth living.
London is too full of fogs and serious people. Whether the fogs produce the serious people, or whether the serious people produce the fogs, I don't know.
When one has never heard a man's name in the course of one's life, it speaks volumes for him; he must be quite respectable.
Men always want to be a woman's first love - women like to be a man's last romance.
A truth ceases to be true when more than one person believes in it.
His morality is all sympathy, just what morality should be
You don't need organized religion to connect with the universe. Often a church is the only place you can go to find peace and quiet... But it shouldn't be confused with connecting with one's spirit.
The thing about being autistic is that you gradually get less and less autistic, because you keep learning, you keep learning how to behave. It's like being in a play; I'm always in a play.
It happens that the stage sets collapse. Rising, streetcar, four hours in the office or the factory, meal, streetcar, four hours of work, meal, sleep, and Monday Tuesday Wednesday Thursday Friday and Saturday according to the same rhythm β this path is easily followed most of the time. But one day the βwhyβ arises and everything begins in that weariness tinged with amazement.
As a real person, he wouldn't last a minute, would he? But drama is about imperfection. And we've moved away from the aspirational hero. We got tired of it, it was dull. If I was House's friend, I would hate it. How he so resolutely refuses to be happy or take the kind-hearted road. But we don't always like morally good people, do we?
Itβs in the very trickery that it pleases me. But show me how the trick is done, and I have lost my interest therein.
I do not understand the capricious lewdness of the sleeping mind.
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