The story goes that when Oscar Wilde traveled to America in 1881, he was asked by a customs agent if he had anything to declare. "Only my genius," he replied. The Irish-born poet, novelist and playwright was the Victorian era's most quotable aesthete, famously spouting barbed aphorisms even to his last breath. Feverish from the cerebral meningitis that would kill him in 1900, Wilde, at 46 disgraced and penniless, opened his eyes one last time, looked around his cheap Paris hotel room and said, "My wallpaper and I are fighting a duel to the death. One or the other... More >>>