pastnowさんのイラストまとめ

I can drink, and bear a good deal of wine (as you may recollect in England); but it don’t exhilarate—it makes me savage and suspicious, and even quarrelsome.

Laudanum has a similar effect; but I can take much of it without any effect at all.

— Lord Byron, October 6 1821.

Address to me at Pisa, whither I am going, to join the exiles—a pretty numerous body at present.

— Lord Byron, September 27 1821.

A moonlight walk.

— Mary Shelley, September 10 1821.

Lord Byron gets up at two [afternoon].

After breakfast we sit talking till six.

From six till eight we gallop through the pine forests which divide Ravenna from the sea; we then come home and dine, and sit up gossiping till six in the morning.

— Percy Shelley, August 10 1821.

If I were to let loose my imagination rapt into future times I could paint portraits of Glories and Terrors and Horrors, sublime beautiful and miraculous.

But Sacred Authority Says “Lord thou destroyest the hope of Man.” So he does the fear.

— John Adams, June 3 1821.

Lady Noel is dangerously well again I hear.

— Lord Byron’s mother-in-law joke, May 20 1821.

A violent misty maestrale.

— Mary Shelley, March 19 1821.

John Keats’s body is wrapped in a winding sheet, and placed in a coffin for burial in the morning.

— February 25 1821.

It is still blowing hard – the tiles flying, and the house rocking – rain splashing – lightning flashing – quite a fine Swiss Alpine evening, and the sea roaring in the distance.

— Lord Byron, February 19 1821.

As an earthquake rocks a corse
In its coffin in the clay,
So White Winter, that rough nurse,
Rocks the death-cold Year to-day;
Solemn Hours! wail aloud
For your mother in her shroud.

— SHELLEY, “Dirge for the Year” January 1 1821.