Lord byron

This man is freed from servile bands, Of hope to rise, or fear to fall; Lord of himself, though not of lands, And leaving nothing, yet hath all.

Death, so called, is a thing which makes men weep, And yet a third of life is passed in sleep.

The poor dog, in life the firmest friend. The first to welcome, foremost to defend.

Like the measles, love is most dangerous when it comes late in life.

A celebrity is one who is known to many persons he is glad he doesn't know.

Between two worlds life hovers like a star, twixt night and morn, upon the horizon's verge.

Men love in haste, but they detest at leisure.

I have no consistency, except in politics; and that probably arises from my indifference to the subject altogether.

This is the patent age of new inventions for killing bodies, and for saving souls. All propagated with the best intentions.

There's naught, no doubt, so much the spirit calms as rum and true religion.