❝[Wilde] was never bitter; he was brought low, humiliated to the point of virtually begging on the street. But he retained his dignity; his letter to Bosie from prison, De Profundis, is an extraordinary piece of writing—its understanding, its imaginative penetration of Bosie’s life. Although he’s tough on Bosie, he understands him. He tells Bosie what his trouble is—its not that he’s cruel or stupid. He’s just not imaginative, he does not have the ability to penetrate the minds of others, to see what it’s like to be someone else, which is the first quality of art that you need. That’s why Bosie wasn’t a great poet, that’s why he brought such tragedy. All he had was hate and, as Wilde observes, hate is unique among human emotions in that it destroys everything around it except itself.❞