Everything is dangerous, my dear fellow. If it wasn't so, life wouldn't be worth living.
Oscar WildeRead
Death must be so beautiful. To lie in the soft brown earth, with the grasses waving above one's head, and listen to silence. To have no yesterday, and no tomorrow. To forget time, to forgive life, to be at peace.
Interpretation
The quote reflects on the beauty and peace that death brings, suggesting a release from the burdens of life.
In this quote, Oscar Wilde poetically expresses his thoughts on death as a serene and beautiful state of being. He illustrates the image of resting in nature, free from the constraints of time and past sorrows, inviting contemplation of death not as an ending but as a peaceful transition into stillness and forgiveness for life's difficulties.
In practice
In a eulogy, to honor someone's peaceful passing.
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
No wonder so many sermons are devoted exclusively to "spiritual" subjects. If one is living by the tithes of history's most destructive economy, then the disembodiment of the soul becomes the chief of worldly conveniences.
The Truth has shared so much of Itself with me That I can no longer call myself A man, a woman, an angel, Or even pure Soul.
Narrative identity takes part in the story's movement, in the dialectic between order and disorder
I don't think you ever understand your life - not till it's finished and probably not then either. The more I live the less I seem to understand.
The universe is then one, infinite, immobile. ... It is not capable of comprehension and therefore is endless and limitless, and to that extent infinite and indeterminable, and consequently immobile.
Hardly a pure science, history is closer to animal husbandry than it is to mathematics in that it involves selective breeding. The principal difference between the husbandryman and the historian is that the former breeds sheep or cows or such and the latter breeds (assumed) facts. The husbandryman uses his skills to enrich the future, the historian uses his to enrich the past. Both are usually up to their ankles in bullshit.
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