Society is now one polished horde, formed of two mighty tries, the Bores and Bored. – Lord Byron
Death, so called, is a thing which makes men weep, And yet a third of life is passed in sleep. – Lord Byron

Society is now one polished horde, formed of two mighty tries, the Bores and Bored. – Lord Byron
Death, so called, is a thing which makes men weep, And yet a third of life is passed in sleep. – Lord Byron
But what is Hope? Nothing but the paint on the face of Existence the least touch of truth rubs it off, and then we see what a hollow-cheeked harlot we have got hold of. – Lord Byron
All who joy would win must share it. Happiness was born a Twin. – Lord Byron