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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
Lord
Introvert
Known
Turmoil
Must
Politician
Men
Travel
Quiet
Existence
Written
Waiting
Mercantile
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Better to sink beneath the shock Than moulder piecemeal on the rock!
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I am about to be married, and am of course in all the misery of a man in pursuit of happiness.
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It is true from early habit, one must make love mechanically as one swims I was once very fond of both, but now as I never swim unless I tumble into the water, I don't make love till almost obliged.
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Friendship is Love without his wings!
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Earth! render back from out thy breast A remnant of our Spartan dead! Of the three hundred grant but three, To make a new Thermopylæ!
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Age shakes Athena's tower, but spares gray Marathon.
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Grieving, if aught inanimate e'er grieves, Over the unreturning brave.
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In hope to merit heaven by making earth a hell.
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Tis said that persons living on annuities Are longer lived than others.
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Oh, talk not to me of a name great in story The days of our youth are the days of our glory And the myrtle and ivy of sweet two-and-twenty Are worth all your laurels, though ever so plenty.
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This quiet sail is as a noiseless wing To waft me from distraction.
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A change came o'er the spirit of my dream.
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So sweet the blush of bashfulness, E'en pity scarce can wish it less!
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Such is your cold coquette, who can't say No, And won't say Yes, and keeps you on and off-ing On a lee-shore, till it begins to blow, Then sees your heart wreck'd, with an inward scoffing.
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Go let thy less than woman's hand Assume the distaff not the brand.
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Smiles form the channels of a future tear.
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I do not believe in any religion, I will have nothing to do with immortality. We are miserable enough in this life without speculating upon another.
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The French courage proceeds from vanity
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He makes a solitude, and calls it - peace!
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Man is a carnivorous production, And must have meals, at least one meal a day He cannot live, like woodcocks, upon suction, But, like the shark and tiger, must have prey Although his anatomical construction Bears vegetables, in a grumbling way, Your laboring people think beyond all question, Beef, veal, and mutton better for digestion.
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