Quotes about Perception
The wind shook some blossoms from the trees, and the heavy lilac blooms, with their clustering stars, moved to and fro in the languid air. A grasshopper began to chirp by the wall, and like a blue thread a long, thin dragonfly floated past on its brown gauze wings. Lord Henry felt as if he could hear Basil Hallward's heart beating, and wondered what was coming.
— Oscar Wilde
To cure the soul by means of the senses, and the senses by means of the soul.
— Oscar Wilde
The fact is that we look back on the ages entirely through the medium of Art, and Art, very fortunately, has never once told us the truth.
— Oscar Wilde
Looking around his hotel room not long before expiring: This wallpaper is killing me. One of us has to go.
— Oscar Wilde
You have a dreamer's look; you must not dream. It is only sick people who dream.
— Oscar Wilde
To know the vintage and quality of a wine one need not drink the whole cask. It must be perfectly easy in half an hour to say whether a book is worth anything or worth nothing. Ten minutes are really sufficient, if one has the instinct for form. Who wants to wade through a dull volume? One tastes it, and that is quite enough — more than enough, I should imagine.
— Oscar Wilde
Mere words.. Was there anything so real as words?
— Oscar Wilde
It is possible, of course, that I may exaggerate about them. I certainly hope that I do; for where there is no exaggeration there is no love, and where there is no love there is no understanding. It is only about things that do not interest one, that one can give a really unbiassed opinion; and this is no doubt the reason why an unbiassed opinion is always valueless.
— Oscar Wilde
I'm really very sorry, but it is not my fault. People are so annoying. All my pianists look exactly like poets, and all my poets look exactly like pianists
— Oscar Wilde
Was there anything so real as words?
— Oscar Wilde
Girls never marry the men they flirt with. Girls don't think it right.
— Oscar Wilde
Life at times loses its sense of reality; it appears to us like a weird, optical illusion - a phantasmagoric bubble that will disappear at the slightest breath.
— Oscar Wilde