Believe: — if ’tis improbable, you must; And if it is impossible, you shall: ’Tis always best to take things upon trust. - Lord Byron

When we have made our love and gamed our gaming, Drest, voted, shone, and maybe something more; With dandies dined, heard senators declaiming, Seen beauties brought to market by the score, Sad rakes to sadder husbands chastely taming, There’s little left but to be bored or bore. Witness those ci-devant jeunes hommes who stem The stream, nor leave the world which leaveth them.

My mother Earth!
And thou fresh breaking Day, and you, ye Mountains,
Why are ye beautiful? I cannot love ye.
And thou, the bright eye of the universe,
That openest over all, and unto all
Art a delight—thou shin'st not on my heart.

Oh man! thou feeble tenant of an hour,
Debas’d by slavery, or corrupt by power,
Who knows thee well must quit thee with disgust,
Degraded mass of animated dust!
Thy love is lust, thy friendship all a cheat,
Thy smiles hypocrisy, thy words deceit!
By nature vile, ennobled but by name,
Each kindred brute might bid thee blush for shame.