George Gordon Byron:
(London, 22 January 1788 – Mesolongi, 19 April 1824) Known as Lord Byron, was an English Romantic poet and writer. Byron’s reputation rests not only on his writings, but also on his life full of aristocratic excesses, huge debts and numerous love affairs. Lady Caroline Lamb called him ‘mad, wicked and dangerous to know’.
The English winter ending in July to recommence in August.
Truth is always strange, stranger than fiction.
Friendship is love without wings.
A drop of ink may make a million think.
Friendship may, and often does, grow into love, but love never subsides into friendship.
All who joy would win must share it. Happiness was born a Twin.
There is a pleasure in the pathless woods, There is a rapture om the lonely shore, There is sociwety where none intrudes, Bij the deep Sea, and music in its roar: I love not Man the less, but Nature more.
The best prophet for the future is the past.
And, after all, what is a lie? ‘T is but the truth in masquerade.
