Frank Harris,
Oscar Wilde, His Life and Confessions…
“ OSCAR'S FIRST PLAY No season, it is said, is so beautiful as the brief northern summer. Three- fourths of the year is cold and dark, and the ice-bound landscape is swept by snowstorm and blizzard. Summer comes like a goddess; in a twinkling the snow vanishes and Nature puts on her robes of tenderest green; the birds arrive in flocks; flowers spring to life on all sides, and the sun shines by night as by day. Such a summertide, so beautiful and so brief, was accorded to Oscar Wilde before the final desolation. ”
