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Why I came here, I know not where I shall go it is useless to inquire - in the midst of myriads of the living and the dead worlds, stars, systems, infinity, why should I be anxious about an atom?
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
World
Midst
Myriads
Useless
Inquire
Dead
Atom
Shall
Infinity
Came
Atoms
Stars
Anxious
Literature
Worlds
Living
Systems
More quotes by Lord Byron
Out of chaos God made a world, and out of high passions comes a people.
Lord Byron
The truly brave are soft of heart and eyes, and feel for what their duty bids them do.
Lord Byron
America is a model of force and freedom and moderation - with all the coarseness and rudeness of its people.
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I only know we loved in vain I only feel-farewell! farewell!
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I hate all pain, Given or received we have enough within us The meanest vassal as the loftiest monarch, Not to add to each other's natural burden Of mortal misery.
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Now what I love in women is, they won't Or can't do otherwise than lie, but do it. So well, the very truth seems falsehood to it.
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I have not loved the World, nor the World me I have not flattered its rank breath, nor bowed To its idolatries a patient knee, Nor coined my cheek to smiles,-nor cried aloud In worship of an echo.
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We are all the fools of time and terror: Days Steal on us and steal from us yet we live, Loathing our life, and dreading still to die.
Lord Byron
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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My altars are the mountains and the ocean.
Lord Byron
You should have a softer pillow than my heart.
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Friendship is Love without his wings!
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To chase the glowing hours with flying feet.
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Poetry should only occupy the idle.
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No ear can hear nor tongue can tell the tortures of the inward hell!
Lord Byron
But words are things, and a small drop of ink, Falling like dew, upon a thought, produces That which makes thousands, perhaps millions, think.
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The waves were dead the tides were in their grave, The moon, their mistress, had expir'd before The winds were wither'd in the stagnant air, And the clouds perish'd Darkness had no need Of aid from them-She was the Universe.
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For the night Shows stars and women in a better light.
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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.
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Next to dressing for a rout or ball, undressing is a woe.
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