George Gordon Noel Byron ( 10 of 329 )
Put himself upon his good behavior.
Put himself upon his good behavior.
For everything seemed resting on his nod,
As they could read in all eyes. Now to them,
read more
For everything seemed resting on his nod,
As they could read in all eyes. Now to them,
Who were accustomed, as a sort of god,
To see the sultan, rich in many a gem,
Like an imperial peacock stalk abroad
(That royal bird, whose tail's a diadem,)
With all the pomp of power, it was a doubt
How power could condescend to do without.
A thirst for gold,
The beggar's vice, which can but overwhelm
The meanest hearts.
A thirst for gold,
The beggar's vice, which can but overwhelm
The meanest hearts.
She bears her down majestically near,
Speed on her prow, and terror in her tier.
She bears her down majestically near,
Speed on her prow, and terror in her tier.
Sorrow preys upon
Its solitude, and nothing more diverts it
From its sad visions of the other read more
Sorrow preys upon
Its solitude, and nothing more diverts it
From its sad visions of the other world
Than calling it at moments back to this.
The busy have no time for tears.
I love the language, that soft bastard Latin,
Which melts like kisses from a female mouth.
I love the language, that soft bastard Latin,
Which melts like kisses from a female mouth.
The castled crag of Drachenfels,
Frowns o'er the wide and winding Rhine,
Whose breast of waters broadly read more
The castled crag of Drachenfels,
Frowns o'er the wide and winding Rhine,
Whose breast of waters broadly swells
Between the banks which bear the vine,
And hills all rich with blossom'd trees,
And fields which promise corn and wine,
And scatter'd cities crowning these,
Whose far white walls along them shine.
There was a sound of revelry by night,
And Belgium's capital had gather'd then
Her Beauty and read more
There was a sound of revelry by night,
And Belgium's capital had gather'd then
Her Beauty and her Chivalry, and bright
The lamps shone o'er fair women and brave men.
There's not a joy the world can give like that it takes away.
- Lord Byron (George read more
There's not a joy the world can give like that it takes away.
- Lord Byron (George Gordon Noel Byron),
If a man proves too clearly and convincingly to
himself . . . that a tiger is an optical read more
If a man proves too clearly and convincingly to
himself . . . that a tiger is an optical illusion--well, he will
find out he is wrong. The tiger will himself intervene in the
discussion, in a manner which will be in every sense conclusive.
