I cannot conceive why people will always mix up my own character and opinions with those of the imaginary beings which, as a poet, I have the right a… - Lord Byron

My days of love are over; me no more
The charms of maid, wife, and still less of widow,
Can make the fool of which they made before, — In short, I must not lead the life I did do;
The credulous hope of mutual minds is o'er,
The copious use of claret is forbid too,
So for a good old-gentlemanly vice,
I think I must take up with avarice.

the poor dog, in life the firmest friend, the first to welcome, the foremost to defend.

In the desert a fountain is springing,
In the wide waste there still is a tree,
And a bird in the solitude singing,
Which speaks to my spirit of thee.