Years Steal Fire From The Mind As Vigour From The Limb, And Life's Enchanted Cup But Sparkles Near The Brim.

This quiet sail is as a noiseless wing To waft me from distraction.
-- Lord Byron (1788-1824) -- Childe Harold's Pilgrimage, Canto iii, Stanza 85...
He who grown aged in this world of woe, In deeds, not years, piercing the depths of life, So that no wonder waits him.
-- Lord Byron (1788-1824) -- Childe Harold's Pilgrimage, Canto iii, Stanza 5...
Ada! sole daughter of my house and heart.
-- Lord Byron (1788-1824) -- Childe Harold's Pilgrimage, Canto iii, Stanza 1...
All tenantless, save to the crannying wind.
-- Lord Byron (1788-1824) -- Childe Harold's Pilgrimage, Canto iii, Stanza 47...
And there was mounting in hot haste.
-- Lord Byron (1788-1824) -- Childe Harold's Pilgrimage, Canto iii, Stanza 25...
Battle's magnificently stern array.
-- Lord Byron (1788-1824) -- Childe Harold's Pilgrimage, Canto iii, Stanza 28...
By the blue rushing of the arrowy Rhone.
-- Lord Byron (1788-1824) -- Childe Harold's Pilgrimage, Canto iii, Stanza 71...
He rush'd into the field, and foremost fighting fell.
-- Lord Byron (1788-1824) -- Childe Harold's Pilgrimage, Canto iii, Stanza 23...
In solitude, where we are least alone.
-- Lord Byron (1788-1824) -- Childe Harold's Pilgrimage, Canto iii, Stanza 90...