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Friendship is Love without his wings!
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
Friendship
Friends
Without
Love
Wings
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The 'good old times' - all times when old are good.
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Admire, exult, despise, laugh, weep for here There is such matter for all feelings: Man! Thou pendulum betwixt a smile and tear.
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Dead scandals form good subjects for dissection.
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My native land, good night!
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Then, fare thee well, deceitful Maid!
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All Heaven and Earth are still, though not in sleep, But breathless, as we grow when feeling most.
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In itself a thought, a slumbering thought is capable of years and curdles a long life into one hour.
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My turn of mind is so given to taking things in the absurd point of view, that it breaks out in spite of me every now and then.
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Yet he was jealous, though he did not show it, For jealousy dislikes the world to know it.
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I learned to love despair.
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Smiles form the channels of a future tear.
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Tis said that persons living on annuities Are longer lived than others.
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I depart, Whither I know not but the hour's gone by When Albion's lessening shores could grieve or glad mine eye.
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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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I am so convinced of the advantages of looking at mankind instead of reading about them, . . . that I think there should be a law amongst us to set our young men abroad for a term among the few allies our wars have left us.
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They truly mourn, that mourn without a witness.
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Which cheers the sad, revives the old, inspires The young, makes Weariness forget his toil, And Fear her danger opens a new world When this, the present, palls.
Lord Byron
There is no passion, more spectral or fantastical than hate, not even its opposite, love, so peoples air, with phantoms, as this madness of the heart.
Lord Byron
I am the very slave of circumstance And impulse borne away with every breath! Misplaced upon the throne misplaced in life. I know not what I could have been, but feel I am not what I should be let it end.
Lord Byron
Sighing that Nature formed but one such man, and broke the die.
Lord Byron
