Reported as Oscar Wilde's last words on his death bed... This wallpaper is killing me. One of us has to go.

I am Irish by race but the English have condemned me to talk the language of Shakespeare.

My experience is that as soon as people are old enough to know better, they don't know anything at all.

To be popular I must be mediocre.

As one knows the poet by his fine music, so one can recognize the liar by his rich rhythmic utterance, and in neither case will the casual inspiration of the moment suffice. Here, as elsewhere, practice must precede perfection.

How clever you are, my dear! You never mean a single word you say.

Love is not fashionable anymore; the poets have killed it.