Lord Byron

It is singular how soon we lose the impression of what ceases to be constantly before us. A year impairs, read more

It is singular how soon we lose the impression of what ceases to be constantly before us. A year impairs, a luster obliterates. There is little distinct left without an effort of memory, then indeed the lights are rekindled for a moment -- but who can be sure that the Imagination is not the torch-bearer?

Hatred is the madness of the heart.

Hatred is the madness of the heart.

Letter writing is the only device for combining solitude with good company.

Letter writing is the only device for combining solitude with good company.

Wives in their husbands' absences grow subtler, and daughters sometimes run off with the butler

Wives in their husbands' absences grow subtler, and daughters sometimes run off with the butler

I have great hopes that we shall love each other all our lives as much as if we had never read more

I have great hopes that we shall love each other all our lives as much as if we had never married at all.