Maxioms by Lord Byron
Hatred is by far the longest pleasure; Men love in haste, but they detest at leisure.
Hatred is by far the longest pleasure; Men love in haste, but they detest at leisure.
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?
I am never long, even in the society of her I love, without yearning for the company of my lamp read more
I am never long, even in the society of her I love, without yearning for the company of my lamp and my library.
No ear can hear nor tongue can tell the tortures of the inward hell!
No ear can hear nor tongue can tell the tortures of the inward hell!
