I Am As A Weed Flung From The Rock, On Ocean's Foam To Sail Where'er The Surge May Sweep, The Tempest's Breath Prevail.

This quiet sail is as a noiseless wing To waft me from distraction.
-- Lord Byron (1788-1824) -- Childe Harold's Pilgrimage, Canto iii, Stanza 85...
In solitude, where we are least alone.
-- Lord Byron (1788-1824) -- Childe Harold's Pilgrimage, Canto iii, Stanza 90...
I have not loved the world, nor the world me.
-- Lord Byron (1788-1824) -- Childe Harold's Pilgrimage, Canto iii, Stanza 113...
I stood Among them, but not of them; in a shroud Of thoughts which were not their thoughts.
-- Lord Byron (1788-1824) -- Childe Harold's Pilgrimage, Canto iii, Stanza 113...
Ada! sole daughter of my house and heart.
-- Lord Byron (1788-1824) -- Childe Harold's Pilgrimage, Canto iii, Stanza 1...
All tenantless, save to the crannying wind.
-- Lord Byron (1788-1824) -- Childe Harold's Pilgrimage, Canto iii, Stanza 47...
And there was mounting in hot haste.
-- Lord Byron (1788-1824) -- Childe Harold's Pilgrimage, Canto iii, Stanza 25...
And thus the heart will break, yet brokenly live on.
-- Lord Byron (1788-1824) -- Childe Harold's Pilgrimage, Canto iii, Stanza 32...
Battle's magnificently stern array.
-- Lord Byron (1788-1824) -- Childe Harold's Pilgrimage, Canto iii, Stanza 28...