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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In much wisdom is much grief: and he that increaseth knowledge increaseth sorrow.
Men are we, and must grieve when even the Shade
Of that which once was great, is passed away.
Happiness is beneficial for the body but it is grief that develops the powers of the mind.
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.