Byron

Shall I believe that you are not like me? A dog is but a wolf no longer wild, and though you are a faithful friend, I see, you are four-footed like no human child, my boy; and though you answer to the name the same the brilliant poet reprobate, there somewhere in my brain is the refrain: each species God did separately create. But Wallace fed by spoon his little pet orangutan, and longed to take her home to England’s soil, where Darwin’s tree upset conventional belief. And I must own: that when your gaze unblinking holds my eyes I know our likeness cannot be despised.