Men go abroad to wonder at the heights of mountains, at the huge waves of the sea, at the long courses of the rivers, at the vast compass of the ocean, at the circular motions of the stars, and they pass by themselves without wondering. ~ Saint Augustine
SHE walks in beauty, like the night, Of cloudless climes and starry skies;And all that ‘s best of dark and bright
Meet in her aspect and her eyes: Thus mellow’d to that tender light; Which heaven to gaudy day denies.
One shade the more, one ray the less, Had half impair’d the nameless grace
Which waves in every raven tress, Or softly lightens o’er her face;
Where thoughts serenely sweet express; How pure, how dear their dwelling-place.
And on that cheek, and o’er that brow, So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,
The smiles that win, the tints that glow, But tell of days in goodness spent,
A mind at peace with all below, A heart whose love is innocent! – George Gordon Byron, Lord Byron. 1788–1824