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I have a great mind to believe in Christianity for the mere pleasure of fancying I may be damned.

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
Believe
Atheism
Mere
Christianity
Pleasure
Literature
May
Fancying
Great
Damned
Mind
Atheist

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If I don't write to empty my mind, I go mad. As to that regular, uninterrupted love of writing. I do not understand it. I feel it as a torture, which I must get rid of, but never as a pleasure. On the contrary, I think composition a great pain.
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Your thief looks Exactly like the rest, or rather better 'Tis only at the bar, and in the dungeon, That wise men know your felon by his features.
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If a man proves too clearly and convincingly to himself...that a tiger is an optical illusion--well, he will find out he is wrong. The tiger will himself intervene in the discussion, in a manner which will be in every sense conclusive.
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They truly mourn, that mourn without a witness.
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And life 's enchanted cup but sparkles near the brim.
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The heart ran o'er With silent worship of the great of old!-- The dead, but sceptred sovereigns, who still rule Our spirits from their urns.
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Man marks the earth with ruin - his control stops with the shore.
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Come what may, I have been blest.
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Years steal fire from the mind as vigor from the limb and life's enchanted cup but sparkles near the brim.
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O ye! who teach the ingenious youth of nations, Holland, France, England, Germany or Spain, I pray ye flog them upon all occasions, It mends their morals, never mind the pain.
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Go let thy less than woman's hand Assume the distaff not the brand.
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But stories somehow lengthen when begun.
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I stood among them, but not of them: in a shroud of thoughts which were not their thoughts.
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Sweet is old wine in bottles, ale in barrels.
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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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Yon Sun that sets upon the sea We follow in his flight Farewell awhile to him and thee, My native land-Good Night!
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