The tender story of The Selfish Giant was written in 1888 by Oscar Wilde and holds an undeniably special place among childhood treasures.
The power of love, sharing and solidarity are just some of the messages that the author conveys in his unique way.
In the beginning, the Giant chases away the children playing in his garden, so it is now permanently winter there. However, when he helps a child to climb a tree and lets the children play again spring returns.
The writer and poet Oscar Fingal O'Flahertie Wills Wilde was born in Dublin on 16 October 1854.
Wilde's first collection of poetry was published in 1881 and he later published a series of children's stories after his marriage to Constance Lloyd (1884), with whom he would have two children.
The Portrait of Dorian Gray was published in 1891, but Wilde's first major success came with the play Lady Windermere's Fan (1892).
Three other plays followed: A Woman of No Importance, An Ideal Husband and The Importance of Being Earnest.
The fourth (Salome) was published in France in 1893.
In 1895 Wilde was sentenced to two years of hard labour on the charge of homosexuality.
It was in prison that his masterpiece De Profundis was born.
After his release from prison in 1897, Wilde settled permanently in Paris until his death on 30 November 1900.
And now here is my secret, a very simple secret: It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eye.
As we count up the memories from one journey, we head off on another. Remembering those who went ahead. Remembering those who will follow after. And someday, we will meet all those people again, out beyond the horizon.
You never really understand a person until you consider things from his point of view... Until you climb inside of his skin and walk around in it.
The emotional qualities are antagonistic to clear reasoning.
Our destiny is what we want it to be, not what has been carved in stone. It's our life, not someone else's dream.
I would have liked to cry: the make-up stopped me, it looked just right, with the cracks, with the places where it was beginning to flake off, tears would have ruined all that. I could cry later, if I still felt like it.
