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This man is freed from servile bands, Of hope to rise, or fear to fall Lord of himself, though not of lands, And leaving nothing, yet hath all.
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
Land
Servile
Lord
Freed
Though
Lands
Hope
Bands
Fear
Hath
Fall
Rise
Nothing
Leaving
Men
Band
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There are some feelings time cannot benumb, Nor torture shake.
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Truth is a gem that is found at a great depth whilst on the surface of the world all things are weighed by the false scale of custom.
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Grief is fantastical, and loves the dead, And the apparel of the grave.
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Though I love my country, I do not love my countrymen.
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Think you, if Laura had been Petrarch's wife, He would have written sonnets all his life?.
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It is useless to tell one not to reason but to believe you might as well tell a man not to wake but sleep.
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A small drop of ink makes thousands, perhaps millions... think.
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He makes a solitude, and calls it - peace!
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He who is only just is cruel who Upon the earth would live were all judged justly?
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Absence - that common cure of love.
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No words suffice the secret soul to show, For truth denies all eloquence to woe.
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But as to women, who can penetrate the real sufferings of their she condition? Man's very sympathy with their estate has much of selfishness and more suspicion. Their love, their virtue, beauty, education, but form good housekeepers, to breed a nation.
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Oh who can tell, save he whose heart hath tried.
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The image of Eternity--the throne Of the Invisible even from out thy slime The monsters of the deep are made each zone Obeys thee thou goest forth, dread, fathomless, alone.
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[Armenian] is a rich language, however, and would amply repay any one the trouble of learning it.
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With thee all tales are sweet each clime has charms earth - sea alike - our world within our arms.
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My altars are the mountains and the ocean.
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I am never long, even in the society of her I love, without yearning for the company of my lamp and my library.
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And the commencement of atonement is the sense of its necessity.
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Out of chaos God made a world, and out of high passions comes a people.
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