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.
I would rather have gone right ahead. I wish they had gone ahead with it.
The end is the beginning of all things, Suppressed and hidden, Awaiting to be released through the rhythm Of pain and pleasure.
(May 12, 1895 - February 17, 1986)
The production of too many useful things results in too many useless people.