'Tis enough—
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.
You may also like
She's beautiful, and therefore to be woo'd;
She is a woman, therefore to be won.
Romance requires trust—and the deeper the trust, the deeper the possibility for romance.
The surest way to hit a woman’s heart is to take aim kneeling.
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.