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Lord Byron
Quote #113
By all that 's good and glorious.
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Which makes life itself a lie, Flattering dust with eternity.
I am the very slave of circumstance And impulse,-borne away with every breath!
O Mirth and Innocence! O milk and water! Ye happy mixtures of more happy days.
The dust we tread upon was once alive.
Heart on her lips, and soul within her eyes, Soft as her clime, and sunny as her skies.
All farewells should be sudden.
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 'good old times' - all times when old are good - Are gone.
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