British - Poet | January 22, 1788 - April 19, 1824
But words are things, and a small drop of ink, Falling like dew, upon a thought, produces That which makes thousands, perhaps millions, think.
Lord Byron
WordsSmallThinkThoughtFalling
Sincerity may be humble but she cannot be servile.
HumbleBe HumbleSheSincerityMay
There's naught, no doubt, so much the spirit calms as rum and true religion.
ReligionDoubtTrueSpiritNo Doubt
Then stirs the feeling infinite, so felt In solitude, where we are least alone.
AloneSolitudeFeelingInfiniteFelt
The dew of compassion is a tear.
CompassionSympathyDewTear
Sorrow is knowledge, those that know the most must mourn the deepest, the tree of knowledge is not the tree of life.
LifeWisdomKnowledgeTreeKnow
There is no instinct like that of the heart.
HeartRomanticInstinctLike
There are four questions of value in life, Don Octavio. What is sacred? Of what is the spirit made? What is worth living for and what is worth dying for? The answer to each is the same. Only love.
LifeLoveValueQuestionsWorth
Life's enchanted cup sparkles near the brim.
LifeCupEnchantedNearBrim
Those who will not reason, are bigots, those who cannot, are fools, and those who dare not, are slaves.
FoolsDareWillReasonSlavesWho
All who joy would win must share it. Happiness was born a Twin.
HappinessJoyWinBornShareMust
The poor dog, in life the firmest friend. The first to welcome, foremost to defend.
LifeDogFriendWelcomePoorFirst
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