Quote #112
Which makes life itself a lie, Flattering dust with eternity.
More from Lord Byron
- O Mirth and Innocence! O milk and water! Ye happy mixtures of more happy days.
- By all that 's good and glorious.
- Heart on her lips, and soul within her eyes, Soft as her clime, and sunny as her skies.
- I am the very slave of circumstance And impulse,-borne away with every breath!
- I love the language, that soft bastard Latin, Which melts like kisses from a female mouth, And sounds as if it should be writ on satin, Wit…
- The dust we tread upon was once alive.
- Besides, they always smell of bread and butter.
- All farewells should be sudden.