Lord Byron (January 22, 1788 - April 19, 1824)
Lord Byron in Wikipedia
If I don't write to empty my mind, I go mad.
On with the dance! Let joy be unconfined
The great art of life is sensation, to feel that we exist, even in pain.
The dew of compassion is a tear.
Always laugh when you can. It is cheap medicine.
Film looks better, but the story's there and also the actors' performances. (Digital) is just crisper and faster.
How much it hurts him, I don't know. But I know it's not helping him to sit and not play.
The air was soft, the stars so fine, the promise of every cobbled alley so great that I thought I was in a dream.