Oscar Wilde Quotes

Every man kills the things that he loves. Some with a look, some with flattery, the coward with a kiss.

You always kill the one you love.

You're brilliant,"he says."But you're a fool to stay with someone like me." I close my eyes at the touch of his hand."Then we are both fools.

Each man kills the thing he loves.

It is hard to forgive, and to look at those eyes, and feel those wasted hands,' he answered. 'Kiss me again; and don’t let me see your eyes! I forgive what you have done to me. I love my murderer—but yours! How can I?

These violent delights have violent ends And in their triump die, like fire and powder Which, as they kiss, consume

Yet each man kills the thing he loves By each let this be heard Some do it with a bitter look Some with a flattering word The coward does it with a kiss The brave man with a sword

In its own way the kiss had been an act of murder.

Having blown up my own long-term marriage via an extramarital affair, followed by a traumatic divorce, I tend to think of love as less a gently glowing hearth than a set of flaming train tracks you strap yourself onto.

People kill for love. They die for love.

Jealousy, that dragon which slays love under the pretence of keeping it alive.

See, I will always have this penchant for what I call kamikaze women. I call them kamikazes because they, you know they crash their plane, they're self-destructive. But they crash into you, and you die along with them.

I gotta friend who spends his life, stabbing my picture with a bowie knife. Dreams of strangling me with a scarf, when my name comes up he pretends to barf.

Don't wait for the good woman. She doesn't exist. There are women who can make you feel more with their bodies and their souls but these are the exact women who will turn the knife into you right in front of the crowd.

Those are the love killers. They love you and then they kill you. They're from another planet. Supposedly.

When you loved the one who was killing you, it left you no options." -Bella

O wise man, wash your hands of that friend who associates with your enemies.

Tea Cake, the son of the Evening Sun, had to die for loving her.

When their love was not reciprocated, it could quickly turn to violent hatred.

Some men die for lack of love…some die because of it. Think about it." - Daemon

You had my heart inside of your hand but you played it to the beat

When my friend Melot set the trap, I think I knew it. I turned to death full face, as I had turned to love with my whole body. I would let death enter me as you had entered me. You had crept along my blood vessels through the wound, and the blood that circulates returns to the heart. You circulated me, you made me blush like a girl in the hoop of your hands. You were in my arteries and my lymph, you were the colour just under my skin, and if I cut myself, it was you I bled. Red Isolde, alive on my fingers, and always the force of blood pushing you back to my heart.

I set off, off to kill the man I love.

I remember, in hot floods, the way he slept, still as death, with his face washed flat, stony as a carved tomb and exquisite. His weakness and his ravening bitter needs were terrible, and beautiful, and irresistible as an earthquake. He scalded or smothered anyone he needed, but his needing and the hurt that it caused me were the most life I have ever had. Remember what a poor thing I have always been and forgive me.

But people try love and because they are unconscious... their longing is good, but their love is full of jealousy, full of possessiveness, full of anger, full of nastiness. Soon they destroy it. Hence for centuries they have depended on marriage. Better to start by marriage so that the law can protect you from destroying it. The society, the government, the court, the policeman, the priest, they will all force you to live in the institution of marriage, and you will be just a slave. If marriage is an institution, you are going to be a slave in it. Only slaves want to live in institutions.