Of all
the barbarous middle ages, that which is most
barbarous is the middle age of man! it is -- I
really scarce know what; but when we hover between
fool and sage, and don't know justly what we would
be at -- a period something like a printed page,
black letter upon foolscap, while our hair grows
grizzled, and we are not what we were.
-- Lord Byron
1788-1824, British
Poet
My
time has been passed viciously and agreeably; at
thirty-one so few years months days hours or minutes
remain that ''Carpe Diem'' is not enough. I have
been obliged to crop even the seconds -- for who can
trust to tomorrow?
-- Lord Byron
1788-1824, British
Poet
What
is the worst of woes that wait on age? What stamps
the wrinkle deeper on the brow? To view each loved
one blotted from life's page, And be alone on earth,
as I am now.
-- Lord Byron
1788-1824, British
Poet
A lady
of a ''certain age,'' which means certainly aged.
-- Lord Byron
1788-1824, British
Poet
