Dim with the mist of years, gray flits the shade of power.
Lord Byron (1788 - 1824)
Source: Childe Harold's Pilgrimage, Canto ii. Stanza 2.
Contributed by: Zaady
There's music in the sighing of a reed; There's music in the gushing of a rill; There's music in all things, if we have ears; The earth is but the music of the spheres.
There is a rapture on the lonely shore . . . By the deep sea, and music in its roar.
The Niobe of nations! there she stands.
Source: Childe Harold's Pilgrimage, Canto iv. Stanza 79.
Gone, glimmering through the dream of things that were.
Always laugh when you can. It is cheap medicine.
The thorns which I have reap'd are of the tree I planted; they have torn me, and I bleed. I should have known what fruit would spring from such a seed.
Source: Childe Harold's Pilgrimage, Canto iv. Stanza 10.
All is concentr'd in a life intense, Where not a beam, nor air, nor leaf is lost, But hath a part of being.
Source: Childe Harold's Pilgrimage, Canto iii. Stanza 89.
Man's love is of man's life a thing apart, 'Tis woman's whole existence.
Source: Don Juan
I have imbibed such a love for money that I keep some sequins in a drawer to count, and cry over them once a week.
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