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Byron

Epitaph

Posterity will ne'er survey
A nobler grave than this:
Here lie the bones of Castlereagh:
Stop, traveler--

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A Riddle, On The Letter E

The beginning of eternity, the end of time and space,
The beginning of every end, and the end of every place.

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Epigram

In digging up your bones, Tom Paine,
Will. Cobbett has done well:
You visit him on earth again,
He'll visit you in hell.

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I shall soon be six-and-twenty. Is there anything in the future that can possibly console us for not being always twenty-five?

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My turn of mind is so given to taking things in the absurd point of view, that it breaks out in spite of me every now and then.

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Epigram: The World Is A Bundle Of Hay

The world is a bundle of hay,
Mankind are the asses who pull;
Each tugs it a different way,
And the greatest of all is John Bull.

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Epigram On My Wedding- Day To Penelope

This day, of all our days, has done
The worst for me and you :-
'Tis just six years since we were one,
And five since we were two.

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For the sword outwears its sheath, and the soul wears out the breast, and the heart must pause for breath, and love itself have rest.

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Endorsement To The Deed Of Separation In The April Of 1816

A year ago, you swore, fond she!
'To love, to honour,' and so forth:
Such was the vow you pledged to me,
And here's exactly what 'tis worth.

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But words are things, and a small drop of ink, falling like dew, upon a thought, produces that which makes thousands, perhaps millions, think.

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Byron
Byron