Quote #72
The cold in clime are cold in blood, Their love can scarce deserve the name.
More from Lord Byron
- Better to sink beneath the shock Than moulder piecemeal on the rock.
- I die-but first I have possessed, And come what may, I have been blessed.
- The keenest pangs the wretched find Are rapture to the dreary void, The leafless desert of the mind, The waste of feelings unemployed.
- She was a form of life and light That seen, became a part of sight, And rose, where'er I turn'd mine eye, The morning-star of memory! Yes, …
- And lovelier things have mercy shown To every failing but their own, And every woe a tear can claim Except an erring sister's shame.
- The fatal facility of the octosyllabic verse.
- For freedom's battle, once begun, Bequeath'd by bleeding sire to son, Though baffled oft, is ever won.
- Oh who can tell, save he whose heart hath tried.