Full from the fount of Joy's delicious springs
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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Change based on principle is progress. Constant change without principle becomes chaos.
He is no wise man that will quit a certainty for an uncertainty.
Attribution
Quote text and notes from Wikiquote: Lord Byron (page history), available under CC BY-SA 4.0. Source quality and labels are our own summary of what Wikiquote records.