Know ye the land where the cypress and myrtle Are emblems of deeds that are done in their clime? Where the rage… — Lord Byron Copy Share Image
Nor all that heralds rake from coffin'd clay, Nor florid prose, nor honied lies of rhyme, Can blazon evil deeds, or consecrate… — Lord Byron Copy Share Image
He who grown aged in this world of woe, In deeds, not years, piercing the depths of life, So that no wonder… — Lord Byron Copy Share Image
Your thief looks Exactly like the rest, or rather better; 'Tis only at the bar, and in the dungeon, That wise men know your… — Lord Byron Copy Share Image
She walks in beauty, like the night Of cloudless climes and starry skies; And all that's best of dark and bright Meet in her… — Lord Byron Copy Share Image
“We of the craft are all crazy. Some are affected by gaiety, others by melancholy, but all are more or less touched.” — Lord Byron Copy Share Image
Self-love for ever creeps out, like a snake, to sting anything which happens to stumble upon it. — Lord Byron Copy Share Image
Here's a sigh to those who love me,And a smile to those who hate;And, whatever sky's above me,Here's a heart for every fate. — Lord Byron Copy Share Image
For most men (till by losing rendered sager), Will back their own opinions by a wager — Lord Byron Copy Share Image
