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Though sages may pour out their wisdom's treasure, there is no sterner moralist than pleasure.

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
Treasure
Morality
Intelligence
Wisdom
Sterner
Pleasure
Sages
Though
Moralist
May
Pour
Sage

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The place is very well and quiet and the children only scream in a low voice.
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'Tis pleasant, sure, to see one's name in print. A book's a book, although there's nothing in 't.
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A material resurrection seems strange and even absurd except for purposes of punishment, and all punishment which is to revenge rather than correct must be morally wrong, and when the World is at an end, what moral or warning purpose can eternal tortures answer?
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Farewell! if ever fondest prayer For other's weal avail'd on high, Mine will not all be lost in air, But waft thy name beyond the sky.
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Curiosity kills itself and love is only curiosity, as is proved by its end.
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But mighty Nature bounds as from her birth The sun is in the heavens, and life on earth: Flowers in the valley, splendor in the beam, Health on the gale, and freshness in the stream.
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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.
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Oh who can tell, save he whose heart hath tried.
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I slept and dreamt that life was beauty I woke and found that life was duty.
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Lord of himself that heritage of woe!
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If from society we learn to live, solitude should teach us how to die.
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Where are the forms the sculptor's soul hath seized? In him alone, Can nature show as fair?
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Smiles form the channels of a future tear.
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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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This is to be along this, this is solitude!
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Let not his mode of raising cash seem strange, Although he fleeced the flags of every nation, For into a prime minister but change His title, and 'tis nothing but taxation.
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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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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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Opinions are made to be changed or how is truth to be got at?
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Divine in hookas, glorious in a pipe When tipp'd with amber, mellow, rich, and ripe... Yet thy true lovers more admire by far Thy naked beauties - give me a cigar!
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