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Oscar Wilde Quotes about Sad

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Behind joy and laughter there may be a temperament, coarse, hard and callous. But behind sorrow there is always sorrow. Pain, unlike pleasure, wears no mask. ... For this reason there is no truth comparable to sorrow.

Behind joy and laughter there may be a temperament, coarse, hard and callous. But behind sorrow there is always sorrow. Pain, unlike pleasure, wears no mask. ... For this reason there is no truth comparable to sorrow. There are times when sorrow seems to me to be the only truth. Other things may be illusions of the eye or the appetite, made to blind the one and cloy the other, but out of sorrow have the worlds been built, and at the birth of a child or a star there is pain.

Oscar Wilde
Sad, Stars, Pain

Selfishness is not living as one wishes to live, it is asking others to live as one wishes to live.

Oscar Wilde
Life, Sad, Beautiful
Oscar Wilde (2016). “Aphorisms”, p.64, Oscar Wilde

Prosperity, pleasure and success, may be rough of grain and common in fibre, but sorrow is the most sensitive of all created things. There is nothing that stirs in the whole world of thought to which sorrow does not vibrate in terrible and exquisite pulsation. The thin beaten-out leaf of tremulous gold that chronicles the direction of forces the eye cannot see is in comparison coarse. It is a wound that bleeds when any hand but that of love touches it, and even then must bleed again, though not in pain.

Oscar Wilde
Sad, Pain, Eye
Oscar Wilde (1909). “De profundus”

Is it thy will that I should wax and wane, Barter my cloth of gold for hodden grey, And at thy pleasure weave that web of pain Whose brightest threads are each a wasted day?

Oscar Wilde
Sad, Pain, Gold
Oscar Wilde (2007). “The Collected Works of Oscar Wilde”, p.847, Wordsworth Editions

How else but through a broken heart may Lord Christ enter in?

Oscar Wilde
Sad, Broken Heart, Heartbreak
The Ballad of Reading Gaol pt. 5, st. 14 (1898)

For us there is only one season, the season of sorrow. The very sun and moon seem taken from us. Outside, the day may be blue and gold, but the light that creeps down through the thickly-muffled glass of the small iron-barred window beneath which one sits is grey and niggard. It is always twilight in one's cell, as it is always twilight in one's heart. And in the sphere of thought, no less than in the sphere of time, motion is no more.

Oscar Wilde
Sad, Taken, Twilight
Oscar Wilde, Russell Jackson, Ian Small (2000). “The Complete Works of Oscar Wilde: De profundis, "Epistola : in carcere et vinculis"”, p.82, Oxford University Press on Demand

But what of life whose bitter hungry sea Flows at our heels, and gloom of sunless night Covers the days which never more return? Ambition, love and all the thoughts that burn We lose too soon, and only find delight In withered husks of some dead memory.

Oscar Wilde
Sad, Memories, Ambition
Oscar Wilde, Russell Jackson, Ian Small (2000). “The Complete Works of Oscar Wilde: Poems and poems in prose”, p.25, Oxford University Press on Demand

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