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We are all the fools of time and terror: Days Steal on us and steal from us; yet we live, Loathing our life, and dreading still to die.

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Day Die Dreading Fool Lathing Life Live Shall Steal Terror Time Us

Bagwalas

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Marilyn Monroe Paulo Coelho Abraham Lincoln C. S. Lewis Khalil Gibran Charlie Chaplin Gautama Buddha Isaac Newton

Truth is a gem that is found at a great depth; whilst on the surface of the world all things are weighed by the false scale of custom.
LORD BYRON

All Custom Depth Found Gem Scale Surface Thing Truth Weighted
I stood among them, but not of them: in a shroud of thoughts which were not their thoughts.
LORD BYRON

Among Shroud Stood Them Thought
Be warm, be pure, be amorous, but be chaste.
LORD BYRON

Amorous Chaste Pure Warm
Always laugh when you can. It is cheap medicine.
LORD BYRON

Always Cheap Laugh Medicine
Those who will not reason, are bigots, those who cannot, are fools, and those who dare not, are slaves.
LORD BYRON

Biggest Dare Food Reason Slave
There’s not a joy the world can give like that it takes away.
LORD BYRON

Away Give Joy Like Take World
It is when we think we lead that we are most led.
LORD BYRON

Lead led Most Think
The devil was the first democrat
LORD BYRON

Democrat Devil First
It is useless to tell one not to reason but to believe; you might as well tell a man not to wake but sleep.
LORD BYRON

Belive Man might Reason Sleep Tell Useless Wake Well
The heart will break, but broken live on.
LORD BYRON

Break Broken Heart Live
Think not I am what I appear.
LORD BYRON

Appear Result Think What
All who joy would win must share it. Happiness was born a Twin.
LORD BYRON

Born Happiness Joy Must Share Twin
I slept and dreamt that life was beauty; I woke and found that life was duty.
LORD BYRON

Beauty Dreamt Duty Found Life Slep Woke
They truly mourn, that mourn without a witness.
LORD BYRON

Mourn Truly Without Witness
Love will find a way through paths where wolves fear to prey.
LORD BYRON

Fear Find Love Path Prey Way Wolve
The leaves along the limpid streams of Eden? Is your course measur’d for ye? Or do ye Sweep on in your unbounded revelry Through an aerial universe of endless Expansion,–at which my soul aches to think,– Intoxicated with eternity.
LORD BYRON

Ache Along Country Eternity Leave Limpid People Person Reviry Think Unbound

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