Mont Blanc is the monarch of mountains; They crown'd him long ago On a throne of rocks, in a robe of clouds, With a diadem of snow. — Lord Byron Copy Share Image
Not to admire, is all the art I know To make men happy, or to keep them so. Thus Horace wrote we all know long ago; And thus Pope quotes the precept to re-teach From his translation; but had none… — 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
