Humor e Ironia

He loved Jewish jokes. I have told him many, and the thing I wish most is that I would have a record in which I could capture Einstein's laughter when he heard a good Jewish joke. His laughter sounded something like the bark of a contented seal. It was a very strange sound.

When something struck him as funny, his eyes twinkled merrily and he laughed with his whole being… He was ready for humor.

I am content in my later years. I have kept my good humor and take neither myself nor the next person seriously.

I’m doing just fine, considering that I have triumphantly survived Nazism and two wives.

I have now been promoted to an “evil monster” in Germany, and all my money has been taken away from me. But I console myself with the thought that the latter would soon be gone, anyway.

Funny people, these Germans. To them I am a stinking flower, yet they make me into a boutonniere time and time again.

Like the man in the fairytale who turned everything he touched into gold, so with me everything is turned into newspaper clamor.

I’ve been so preoccupied with what would happen in the event of my death that I’m surprised to find myself still alive.

In the past it never occurred to me that every casual remark of mine would be snatched up and recorded. Otherwise I would have crept further into my shell.

It is no use telling me that there are bad aunts and good aunts. At the core, they are all alike. Sooner or later, out pops the cloven hoof.

Work is the curse of the drinking classes.

Shaw has not an enemy in the world; and none of his friends like him.

I have nothing to declare except my genius.

Democracy means simply the bludgeoning of the people by the people for the people.

A little sincerity is a dangerous thing, and a great deal of it is absolutely fatal.

Thirty-five is a very attractive age. London society is full of women of the very highest birth who have, of their own free choice, remained thirty-five for years.

I hope you have not been leading a double life, pretending to be wicked and being really good all the time. That would be hypocrisy.

I never travel without my diary. One should always have something sensational to read in the train.

The good ended happily, and the bad unhappily. That is what fiction means.

All women become like their mothers. That is their tragedy. No man does. That’s his.

To lose one parent, Mr Worthing, may be regarded as a misfortune; to lose both looks like carelessness.

LADY BRACKNELL : A handbag?

In married life three is company and two none.

Ignorance is like a delicate exotic fruit; touch it and the bloom is gone. The whole theory of modern education is radically unsound. Fortunately, in England, at any rate, education produces no effect whatsoever.