After his release from Reading Gaol， Wilde traveled in Europe. He died on November 30， 1900 in Paris.

　　“All trials are trials for one's life， just as all sentences are sentences of death， and three times I have been tried. The first time I left the box to be arrested， the second time to be led back to the house of detention， and the third time to pass into prison for two years. Society as we have constituted it， will have no place for me， has none to offer； but Nature， whose sweet rains fall on just and unjust alike， will have clefts in the rocks where I may hide， and secret valleys in whose silence I may weep undisturbed. She will hang with stars so that I may walk abroad in the darkness without stumbling， and send the wind over my footprints so that none may track me to my hurt： she will cleanse me in great waters， and with bitter herbs make me whole.” [Oscar Wilde， De Profundis]