More Quotes by Lord Byron
Fools are my theme, let satire be my song.
The dew of compassion is a tear.
But words are things, and a small drop of ink, Falling like dew, upon a thought, produces That which makes thousands, perhaps millions, think.
There is no instinct like that of the heart.
A drop of ink may make a million think.
Land of lost gods and godlike men.
The premises are so delightfully extensive, that two people might live together without ever seeing, hearing or meeting.
On with the dance! let joy be unconfin'd No sleep till morn, when Youth and Pleasure meet To chase the Glowing Hours with Flying feet.
This quiet sail is as a noiseless wing To waft me from distraction.
Life is too short for chess.
