Childe Harold's Pilgrimage A Poem by Lord Byron www.gutenberg.org And thus the heart will breakWords which are thingsThere is a pleasure in the pathless woods lovenaturelonelinessmelancholy
Prometheus A Poem by Lord Byron www.poetryfoundation.org The lightnings trembledThe sum of human wretchednessMaking Death a Victory Subjected to some great trialA hierarchical system of senseYou find reasons to keep living deathsufferingpain
Darkness A Poem by Lord Byron I had a dreamBut one thoughtShe was the universeDarkling in the eternal space darknessdeath
Epitaph to a Dog A Poem by Lord Byron Show image 0 Show image 1 Ye! who behold perchance this simple urn, Pass on, it honours none you wish to mourn. To mark a friend's remains these stones arise; I never knew but one — and here he lies. deathfriendship
You are what you love Donald: I loved Sarah, Charles. It was mine, that love. I owned it. Even Sarah didn't have the right to take it away. I can love whoever I want. Charlie: But she thought you were pathetic. Donald: That was her business, not mine. You are what you love, not what loves you. That's what I decided a long time ago. lovemelancholy