And, after all, what is a lie? 'Tis but The truth in masquerade. - Lord Byron

While common men grow ignorantly old,
The lawyer's brief is like the surgeon's knife,
Dissecting the whole inside of a question,
And with it all the process of digestion.

I only go out to get me a fresh appetite for being alone.

Place me on Sunium’s marbled steep — Where nothing, save the waves and I,
May hear our mutual murmurs sweep;
There, swan-like, let me sing and die:
A land of slaves shall ne’er be mine — Dash down yon cup of Samian wine!