More quotes by Lord Byron
How my soul hates This language,
Which makes life itself a lie,
Flattering dust with eternity.
For freedom's battle, once begun,
Bequeath'd by bleeding sire to son,
Though baffled oft, is ever won.
She was his life,
The ocean to the river of his thoughts,
Which terminated all.
There 's not a joy the world can give like that it takes away.
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False words are not only evil in themselves, but they infect the soul with evil.
It is better to be poor and walk in integrity than to be stupid and speak lies.
Who dares think one thing, and another tell,
My heart detests him as the gates of hell.
Attribution
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