Oscar Wilde Quotes

I am not an ux. I am a person and a woman. I am not appended to my husband. We are just married.

In honest truth, a name given to a man is no better than a skin given to him; what is not natively his own falls off and comes to nothing.

What's in a name? That is what we ask ourselves in childhood when we write the name that we are told is ours.

Mrs. Corey still uses her maiden name for business, or when she wants to pretend she doesn’t know me.

My name is immaterial,' she said. That's a pretty name,' said Rincewind.

Quit calling me Grey. It makes me sound like I’m a boy. Like Dorian Gray.” “Dorian who?” I sighed. “Just think up something else. Plain old Nora works too, you know.” “Sure thing, Gumdrop.” I grimaced. “I take that back. Let’s stick with Grey.

For the name Lion Babe, we are a little avant-garde, a little left. And with bands like Blondie, Pink Floyd, or Jamiroquai, you don't know they're bands, you just kind of hear the name and you're like 'What is it?' so that was the kind of thing we wanted to do.

I could never be one of two I could never be two in one as married couples do and can, I am but one all one, one and all one, and so I have never been married to any one.

You know, then that the public Somebody you are when you 'have a name' is a fiction created with mirrors and that the only somebody worth being is the solitary and unseen you that existed from your first breath

In this world one must have a name; it prevents confusion, even when it does not establish identity. Some, though, are known by numbers, which also seem inadequate distinctions.

They stick you with those names, those labels -- ‘rebel’ or whatever; whatever they like to use. Because they need a label; they need a name. They need something to put the price tag on the back of.

I have a name,” I grumped, my stomach pinching me harder. “Yes, but it has no pizzazz. Ra-a-a-a-chel. Rach-e-e-e-eel,” he said, trying it out in different ways. “No one will tremble in terror at that. Oh my God!” he said in a high falsetto. “It’s Rachel! Run! Hide!

I wanted to use some kind of name so people would know where I was from. So I took the name "bluegrass." There is not a prettier name in the whole world.

How can people think that artists seek a name? A name, like a face, is something you have when you're not alone. There is no such thing as an artist: there is only the world, lit or unlit as the light allows.

and there's something about having an especially different name that makes it difficult to imagine what you would be like as a Jennifer.

To name oneself is the first act of both the poet and the revolutionary. When we take away the right to an individual name, we symbolically take away the right to be an individual. Immigration officials did this to refugees; husbands routinely do it to wives.

This naming of things is so crucial to possession - a spiritual padlock with the key thrown irretrievably away - that it is a murder, an erasing, and it is not surprising that when people have felt themselves prey to it (conquest), among their first acts of liberation is to change their names.

A name pronounced is the recognition of the individual to whom it belongs. He who can pronounce my name aright, he can call me, and is entitled to my love and service.

It suddenly hit me one day: after we're married I'll be called Mrs T Leaf!

My name ain't Steve Miller, but I fly like an Eagle.

I have my ship, and all her flags are a-flying. She is all that I have left, and music is her name.

They say that nameless things change constantly—that names fix them in place like pins.

Your name?” I repeated, hoping it was my imagination that my voice faltered. “Call me Patch. I mean it. Call me

One of my students told me that every time she learns the name of a plant, she feels as if she is meeting someone new. Giving a name to something is a way of knowing it.

What is your name?" "Again sir, that is no concern of yours." "A mystery," he said. "I shall have to call you Clorinda." ..... "Judith! What the devil? exclaimed Peregrine. "Has there been an accident?" "Judith," repeated the gentleman of the curricle pensively. "I prefer Clorinda.