he was a bearded, tranquil Byron, who might live on a…

You know what really made me sick? I was in Washington, D.C. at another time reading in a paper where the U.S. gives Byron…

— Fannie Lou Hamer

Martin Buber suggested that evil prevailed because of the inability of man to imagine the real. Yet human beings do have that capacity. Lord…

— Bernard Lown

I think one of the both liberating and terrifying prospects from synthetic biology for example is that you are going to have all of…

— Jason Silva

“You're not beautiful," he said in a quiet statement that made her brow knit. "Why do you look beautiful when you're not?”

— Nora Roberts

From the poetry of Lord Byron they drew a system of ethics compounded of misanthropy and voluptuousness,-a system in which the two great commandments…

— Thomas B. Macaulay

“THE ANGLER "I live not in myself, but I become Portion of that around me; and to me High mountains are a feeling, but…

— Charles Barker Bradford

Id love to own Newstead, partly because it belonged to Lord Byron, but also to try to uncover what dark secrets really lie beneath.

— Karen Maitland

In the future, a new generation of artists will be writing genomes as fluently as Blake and Byron wrote verses.

— Freeman Dyson

I am encouraged as I look at some of those who have listened to their "different drum": Einstein was hopeless at school math and…

— Madeleine L'Engle

I'm John Clare now. I was Byron and Shakespeare formerly.

— John Clare

There is no such thing on earth as an uninteresting subject; the only thing that can exist is an uninterested person. Nothing is more…

— Anonymous

Most poetry is the utterance of a man in some state of passion, love, joy, grief, rage, etc., and no doubt this is as…

— W. H. Auden

“Young Byron thundered on. 'Is there not blood enough on your penal code, that more must be poured forth to ascend to Heaven and…

— S.K. Rizzolo

“Byron listened quietly, thinking to himself how people everywhere are about the same, but that it did seem that in a small town, where…

— William Faulkner

“poor Byron, whose car had been run over by an autopiloted eighteen-wheeler on Valentine’s Day, about”

— William Gibson