Lord Byron

Those who will not reason, are bigots, those who cannot, are fools, and those who dare not, are slaves.

By Heaven! it is a splendid sight to see For one who hath no friend, no brother there.

Adieu! adieu! my native shore Fades o'er the waters blue.

Of all the horrid, hideous notes of woe, Sadder than owl-songs or the midnight blast, Is that portentous phrase, "I told you so."

The cold, the changed, perchance the dead, anew, The mourn'd, the loved, the lost,-too many, yet how few!

Good but rarely comes from good advice.

Thou wert a beautiful thought, and softly bodied forth.