The thorns which I have reap'd are of the tree I planted; they have torn me, and I bleed. I should have known what fruit would spring from such a seed.
Lord ByronThat prose is a verse, and verse is a prose; convincing all, by demonstrating plain – poetic souls delight in prose insane
Lord ByronWe are all the fools of time and terror: Days Steal on us and steal from us; yet we live, Loathing our life, and dreading still to die.
Lord Byron