Everything is dangerous, my dear fellow. If it wasn't so, life wouldn't be worth living.
Oscar WildeRead
Perhaps, after all, America never has been discovered. I myself would say that it had merely been detected.
Interpretation
Wilde suggests that America's existence was not a discovery in the traditional sense, but rather an awareness of something already present.
This quote by Oscar Wilde posits the idea that the 'discovery' of America is less about a literal finding of land and more about the recognition and understanding of it by those who encountered it. It challenges the conventional narrative of discovery, encouraging a deeper reflection on the idea of existence and the perceptions we hold of places and cultures that we may not fully understand.
In practice
During a lecture on colonialism, this quote can illustrate how historical narratives can be reconsidered.
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
When I go to hell, I mean to carry a bribe: for look you, good gifts evermore make way for the worst persons.
Human freedom is not an illusion; it is an objective phenomenon, distinct from all other biological conditions and found in only one species - us.
The dogma of woman's complete historical subjection to men must be rated as one of the most fantastic myths ever created by the human mind.
The strongest guard is placed at the gateway to nothing. Maybe because the condition of emptiness is too shameful to be divulged.
But it was pointless, it was stupid; he thought about thoughtless things. If I were a seabird . . . but how could you be a seabird? If you were a seabird your brain would be tiny and stupid and you would love half-rotted fish guts and tweaking the eyes out of little grazing animals; you would know no poetry and you could never appreciate flying as fully as the human on the ground yearning to be you. If you wanted to be a seabird you deserved to be one.
Insanity is in the eyes of the beholder. So I will continue to live my personal folly.
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