I am an unspeakable of the Oscar Wilde sort.

He never even thought of tenderness and emotion; his considerations about Durham remained cold. Durham didn't dislike him, he was sure. That was all he wanted. One thing at a time. He didn't so much as have hopes, for hope distracts, and he had a great deal to see to.

Some believe that as an icon the image of Oscar Wilde is too old and notorious--all right, not an icon, let him be our oriflamme.

It comes to this then: there always have been people like me and always will be, and generally they have been persecuted.

I have almost completed a long novel, but it is unpublishable until my death and England's.

Any fool can make history, but it takes a genius to write it.