And there was mounting in hot haste.
Lord Byron (1788 - 1824)
Source: Childe Harold's Pilgrimage, Canto iii. Stanza 25.
Contributed by: Zaady
The mind can make Substance, and people planets of its own With beings brighter than have been, and give A breath to forms which can outlive all flesh
To have joy one must share it. Happiness was born a twin.
Now I shall go to sleep. Goodnight.
I'll publish right or wrong. Fools are my theme, let satire be my song.
Still from the fount of joy's delicious springs Some bitter o'er the flowers its bubbling venom flings.
Source: Childe Harold's Pilgrimage, Canto i. Stanza 82.
Egeria! sweet creation of some heart Which found no mortal resting-place so fair As thine ideal breast.
Source: Childe Harold's Pilgrimage, Canto iv. Stanza 115.
Tully was not so eloquent as thou, Thou nameless column with the buried base.
Source: Childe Harold's Pilgrimage, Canto iv. Stanza 110.
He who ascends to mountain-tops shall find The loftiest peaks most wrapt in clouds and snow; He who surpasses or subdues mankind Must look down on the hate of those below.
Source: Childe Harold's Pilgrimage, Canto iii. Stanza 45.
Since Eve ate the apple, much depends on dinner.
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