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I would rather have a nod from an American, than a snuff- box from an emperor.

Lord Byron

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Lord Byron
Age: 36 †
Born: 1788
Born: January 22
Died: 1824
Died: April 19
Autobiographer
Baron Byron
Diarist
Librettist
Lyricist
Military Personnel
Playwright
Poet
Politician
Translator
Writer
London
England
George Gordon Byron
George Gordon Byron
6th Baron Byron
Noel Byron
Xhorxh Bajroni
Bajron
George Gordon
Jerzy Gordon Byron
Pai-lun
Baron Byron George Gordon Byron
6th Baron Byron George Gordon Noel
Byron
George Gordon Byron
Baron Byron
6th Baron Byron George Gordon Byron
George Gordon Noël Byron Byron
Bayrěn
Payrěn
George Gordon By
Humorous
Military
Literature
American
Rather
Funny
Snuff
America
Emperor
Would
Boxes

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The heart will break, but broken live on.
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I should be very willing to redress men wrongs, and rather check than punish crimes, had not Cervantes, in that all too true tale of Quixote, shown how all such efforts fail.
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The reading or non-reading a book will never keep down a single petticoat.
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Sleep hath its own world, and the wide realm of wild reality.
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Religion-freedom-vengeance-what you will, A word's enough to raise mankind to kill.
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Parting day Dies like the dolphin, whom each pang imbues With a new colour as it gasps away, The last still loveliest, till-'t is gone, and all is gray.
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Then stirs the feeling infinite, so felt In solitude, where we are least alone.
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My native land, good night!
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Opinions are made to be changed or how is truth to be got at?
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'Tis sweet to know there is an eye will mark our coming, and look brighter when we come.
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Despair and Genius are too oft connected
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I have great hopes that we shall love each other all our lives as much as if we had never married at all.
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Such is your cold coquette, who can't say No, And won't say Yes, and keeps you on and off-ing On a lee-shore, till it begins to blow, Then sees your heart wreck'd, with an inward scoffing.
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Man marks the earth with ruin - his control stops with the shore.
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Yet smelt roast meat, beheld a huge fire shine, And cooks in motion with their clean arms bared.
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This is the patent-age of new inventions For killing bodies, and for saving souls, All propagated with the best intentions Sir Humphrey Davy's lantern, by which coals Are safely mined for in the mode he mentions, Tombuctoo travels, voyages to the Poles, Are ways to benefit mankind, as true, Perhaps, as shooting them at Waterloo.
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Like the measles, love is most dangerous when it comes late in life.
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But 'midst the crowd, the hum, the shock of men, To hear, to see, to feel, and to possess, And roam along, the world's tired denizen, With none who bless us, none whom we can bless.
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Pure friendship's well-feigned blush.
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