There is always something ridiculous about the emotions of people whom one has ceased to love.
Oscar WildeIf the poor only had profiles there would be no difficulty in solving the problem of poverty
Oscar WildeRequiescat Tread lightly, she is near Under the snow, Speak gently, she can hear The daisies grow. All her bright golden hair Tarnished with rust, She that was young and fair Fallen to dust. Lily-like, white as snow, She hardly knew She was a woman, so Sweetly she grew. Coffin-board, heavy stone, Lie on her breast, I vex my heart alone She is at rest. Peace, Peace, she cannot hear Lyre or sonnet, All my lifeโs buried here, Heap earth upon it.
Oscar Wilde