Amrutha Subbukrishna > Amrutha's Quotes

“Every woman is a rebel, and usually in wild revolt against herself.”
― Oscar Wilde, A Woman of No Importance

“But she is happiest alone. She is happiest alone.”
― Oscar Wilde, A Woman of No Importance

“Nothing should be out of the reach of hope. Life is a hope.”
― Oscar Wilde, A Woman of No Importance

“When a man is old enough to do wrong he should be old enough to do right also.”
― Oscar Wilde, A Woman of No Importance

“LORD ILLINGWORTH: The soul is born old but grows young. That is the comedy of life.
MRS ALLONBY: And the body is born young and grows old. That is life's tragedy.”
― Oscar Wilde, A Woman of No Importance

“I don't know how to talk.
Oh! talk to every woman as if you loved her, and to every man as if he bored you, and at the end of your first season you will have the reputation of possessing the most perfect social tact.”
― Oscar Wilde, A Woman of No Importance

“You love the beauty that you can see and touch and handle, the beauty that you can destroy, and do destroy, but of the unseen beauty of life, of the unseen beauty of a higher life, you know nothing. You lost life's secret.”
― Oscar Wilde, A Woman of No Importance

“Duty is what one expects from others, it is not what one does oneself.”
― Oscar Wilde, A Woman of No Importance

“My dear young lady, there was a great deal of truth; I dare say, in what you said, and you looked very pretty while you said it, which is much more important.”
― Oscar Wilde, A Woman of No Importance

“What is happening within you and how you experience your life is entirely your making – your karma.”
― Sadhguru, Karma: A Yogi's Guide to Crafting Your Destiny

“Surely Love is a wonderful thing. It is more precious than emeralds, and dearer than fine opals. Pearls and pomegranates cannot buy it, nor is it set forth in the market-place. It may not be purchased of the merchants, nor can it be weighed out in the balance for gold.”
― Oscar Wilde, Complete Works of Oscar Wilde

“Bitter, bitter was the pain, and wilder and wilder grew her song, for she sang of the Love that is perfected by Death, of the Love that dies not in the tomb.”
― Oscar Wilde, Complete Works of Oscar Wilde