I have just read a review of my life and I can confirm the critic has confused me with the moral panic. by Oscar Wilde

George, your plays are what happen when a sermon learns to wear a waistcoat.

That is not brilliance, Oscar, that is just refusing to leave the stage.

And yet somehow you still found time to make everything about yourself.

He never left the stage, George. He simply expected the rest of us to applaud the collapse.

My dear Bosie, if the room is small and the scandal is large, one must stand in the center.

You call it a life, I call it an extended warning label.