Lord Byron Quotes
But first, on earth as vampire sent, Thy corse shall from its tomb be rent, Then ghastly haunt thy native place, And suck the blood of all thy race. There from thy daughter, sister, wife, At midnight drain the stream of life, Yet loathe the banquet which perforce Must feed thy livid living corse. Thy victims ere they yet expire Shall know the demon for their sire, As cursing thee, thou cursing them, Thy flowers are withered on the stem.
Lord Byron
Quotes to Explore
Government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the Earth.
Abraham Lincoln
I go where the material is, and I feel like I'm looking for really strong directors. That's the key ingredient. There are some directors I would move the sun and earth for, or stop the rotation of the planets, just to work with them.
Olivia Thirlby
The fairest thing in nature, a flower, still has its roots in earth and manure.
D. H. Lawrence
President Obama, like every other leader on Earth, is still going to be looking out for national and economic interests. States don't cease to be states overnight just because they get a great visionary as their new president.
Samantha Power
The human juggernaut is permanently eroding Earth's ancient biosphere.
E. O. Wilson
Before 'The Vampire Diaries,' I was making beats, which is how I got will.i.am's attention, and I went on tour with him.
Kat Graham
The lasting pleasures of contact with the natural world are not reserved for scientists but are available to anyone who will place himself under the influence of earth, sea and sky and their amazing life.
Rachel Carson
In this world truth can wait; she is used to it.
Douglas William Jerrold
When people ask for book recommendations, I say this: Do some math. If you read one book every week for the rest of your life, and if you're lucky enough to live for 50 more years, you're only going to get to 2,600 books.
Anthony Doerr
Speak of the Gods as they are.
Bias of Priene
But first, on earth as vampire sent, Thy corse shall from its tomb be rent, Then ghastly haunt thy native place, And suck the blood of all thy race. There from thy daughter, sister, wife, At midnight drain the stream of life, Yet loathe the banquet which perforce Must feed thy livid living corse. Thy victims ere they yet expire Shall know the demon for their sire, As cursing thee, thou cursing them, Thy flowers are withered on the stem.
Lord Byron
