"There is pleasure in the pathless woods, there is rapture in the lonely shore, there is society where none intrudes, by the deep sea, and music in its roar; I love not Man the less, but Nature more."
"But what is Hope? Nothing but the paint on the face of Existence; the least touch of truth rubs it off, and then we see what a hollow-cheeked harlot we have got hold of."
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Source: Letter to Thomas Moore, 28 October 1815, in L. A. Marchand (ed.) 'Byron's Letters and Journals' vol. 4 (1975)
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