Oscar Wilde (16 October 1854 – 30 November 1900) was an Irish poet and playwright. After completing his education in Ireland and the UK, Wilde became associated with the philosophy of aestheticism and then settled in London. After writing in different forms throughout the 1880s, including plays, poems and lectures, he became one of the most popular playwrights in London in the early 1890s, with works including Salome (1891), An Ideal Husband (1895) and The Importance of Being Earnest (1895). He also wrote his sole novel The Picture of Dorian Gray around this time. At the height of his fame and success, Wilde prosecuted the Marquess of Queensberry for criminal libel. The Marquess was the father of Wilde's lover, Lord Alfred Douglas. The libel trial unearthed evidence that caused Wilde to drop his charges and led to his own arrest and trial for gross indecency with men; he was convicted and jailed from 1895 to 1897. After his release, he spent his last three years impoverished and in exile in France before his death from meningitis. His last works included De Profundis (published posthumously in 1905), a letter discussing his spiritual journey through his trials, and The Ballad of Reading Gaol (1898), a poem about the harsh rhythms of prison life.Photograph credit: Napoleon Sarony; restored by Adam Cuerden
... that Episode 7921 of Neighbours featured Australia's first televised fictional same-sex wedding since the country voted in favour of legalising same-sex marriage?
... that football coach Dim Montero was considered such a great recruiter that it was said he "could pick up a rock and find an outstanding football prospect"?
This Wikipedia page is considered semi-tractor-trailer-policy. Semi-tractor-trailer-policy pages are an attempt to jack-knife any real policies and present herculean efforts in codification to questionable purpose. These long-standing unwritten unapproved unthought unrules have widespread support since no actual vote ever becomes real. They should be treated as law, unless they do not support your flame war.
It is so terribly sad that I have to explain that the above is a JOKE
If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you
But make allowance for their doubting too,
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or being hated, don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise:
If you can dream--and not make dreams your master,
If you can think--and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools:
If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it all on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breath a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on!"
If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with kings--nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you;
If all men count with you, but none too much,
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And--which is more--you'll be a Man, my son!