Lord Byron

There's naught, no doubt, so much the spirit calms as rum and true religion.

The place is very well and quiet and the children only scream in a low voice.

I love not man the less, but Nature more.

There is pleasure in the pathless woods, there is rapture in the lonely shore, there is society where none intrudes, by the deep sea, and music in its roar; I love not Man the less, but Nature more.

The busy have no time for tears.

It is odd but agitation or contest of any kind gives a rebound to my spirits and sets me up for a time.

This is the patent age of new inventions for killing bodies, and for saving souls. All propagated with the best intentions.

What is the worst of woes that wait on age? What stamps the wrinkle deeper on the brow? To view each loved one blotted from life's page, And be alone on earth, as I am now.

For pleasures past I do not grieve, nor perils gathering near; My greatest grief is that I leave nothing that claims a tear.

Smiles form the channels of a future tear.

I shall soon be six-and-twenty. Is there anything in the future that can possibly console us for not being always twenty-five?