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What should I have known or written had I been a quiet, mercantile politician or a lord in waiting? A man must travel, and turmoil, or there is no existence.

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
Written
Waiting
Mercantile
Lord
Introvert
Known
Turmoil
Must
Politician
Men
Travel
Quiet
Existence

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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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Oh, Mirth and Innocence! Oh, Milk and Water! Ye happy mixture of more happy days!
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Yet I did love thee to the last, As ferverently as thou, Who didst not change through all the past, And canst not alter now.
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I really cannot know whether I am or am not the Genius you are pleased to call me, but I am very willing to put up with the mistake, if it be one.
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Curiosity kills itself and love is only curiosity, as is proved by its end.
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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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May Moorland weavers boast Pindaric skill, And tailors' lays be longer than their bill! While punctual beaux reward the grateful notes, And pay for poems--when they pay for coats.
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Many are poets, but without the nameFor what is Poesy but to createFrom overfeeling Good or Ill and aimAt an external life beyond our fate,And be the new Prometheus of new men,Bestowing fire from Heaven, and then, too late,Finding the pleasure given repaid with pain
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Man's conscience is the oracle of God.
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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.
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The lapse of ages changes all things - time, language, the earth, the bounds of the sea, the stars of the sky, and every thing about, around, and underneath man, except man himself.
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But stories somehow lengthen when begun.
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I have great hopes that we shall love each other all our lives as much as if we had never married at all.
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So sweet the blush of bashfulness, E'en pity scarce can wish it less!
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Then stirs the feeling infinite, so felt In solitude, where we are least alone.
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Books, Manuals, Directives, Regulations. The geometries that circumscribe your working life draw norrower and norrower until nothing fits inside them anymore.
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Retirement accords with the tone of my mind I will not descend to a world I despise.
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Ah, happy years! once more who would not be a boy?
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Pleasure's a sin, and sometimes sin's a pleasure.
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It is the lava of the imagination whose eruption prevents an earthquake.
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