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A small drop of ink makes thousands, perhaps millions… think.

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Drop Make Million Perhaps Small Think Thousand

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

We have fools in all sects, and impostors in most; why should I believe mysteries no one can understand, because written by men who chose to mistake madness for inspiration and style themselves Evangelicals?
LORD BYRON

All Believe Chose Fool Impostors Men Most Mystery Sect Understand Written
What should I have known or written had I been a quiet, mercantile politician or a lord in waiting? A man must travel, and turmoil, or there is no existence.
LORD BYRON

Been Known Lord Mercantile Politician Wait Written
Society is now one polished horde, formed of two mighty tries, the Bores and Bored.
LORD BYRON

Country Formed Horde Mighty Now People Person Place Polish Society Tries
Armenian is the language to speak with God.
LORD BYRON

Country God Language People Person Place Speak
Till taught by pain, men know not water’s worth.
LORD BYRON

Know Men Pain Till Taught Water Worth
But words are things, and a small drop of ink, Falling like dew, upon a thought, produces That which makes thousands, perhaps millions, think.
LORD BYRON

Drop Ink Small Thing Word
Man, being reasonable, must get drunk; the best of life is but intoxication.
LORD BYRON

Being Best Drunk Intoxication Life Man Much Reasonable
A drop of ink may make a million think.
LORD BYRON

Drop Ink May Million Think
Since Eve ate the apple, much depends on dinner.
LORD BYRON

Apple Ate Demand Dinner Eve Much Since
I should, many a good day, have blown my brains out, but for the recollection that it would have given pleasure to my mother-in-law.
LORD BYRON

Blown Brain Day Given Good Law Many Moter Pleasure Recollection
There is something pagan in me that I cannot shake off. In short, I deny nothing, but doubt everything.
LORD BYRON

Deny Doubt Everything Nothing Off Pagan Shake Short Something
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
All who joy would win must share it. Happiness was born a Twin.
LORD BYRON

Born Happiness Joy Must Share Twin
Reason is so unreasonable, that few people can say they are in possession of it.
LORD BYRON

Few People Possession Reason Say Unreasonable
I have imbibed such a love for money that I keep some sequins in a drawer to count, and cry over them once a week.
LORD BYRON

Count Cry Drawer Embedded Keep Love Money Once Over Sequin Some Such Wek
The dome of thought, the palace of the soul.
LORD BYRON

Dome Feeling Palace Soul Thought

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