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Quote #76
Oh who can tell, save he whose heart hath tried.
More from Lord Byron
The fatal facility of the octosyllabic verse.
She walks the waters like a thing of life, And seems to dare the elements to strife.
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, …
The power of thought,-the magic of the mind!
I die-but first I have possessed, And come what may, I have been blessed.
Such hath it been - shall be - beneath the sun The many still must labour for the one!
The cold in clime are cold in blood, Their love can scarce deserve the name.
There was a laughing devil in his sneer.
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