I cannot bear what a coward Wilde was. It is what makes me angriest of all, him lying twice over. That he should lie about what he had done with those boys, I understand, though it was a trial of his own stupid making. But to invoke the Greeks in his defense. To drag idealism into it. Shakespeare and Michelangelo. A pure and perfect affection, indeed. The love that dare not speak its name, indeed. He has brought each and every one of us down with him. All my work. All your work,
