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Knowledge is not happiness, and science But an exchange of ignorance for that Which is another kind of ignorance.
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
Another
Kind
Exchange
Ignorant
Accounts
Ignorance
Knowledge
Happiness
Science
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There's naught, no doubt, so much the spirit calms as rum and true religion.
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Ah, happy years! once more who would not be a boy?
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...And these vicissitudes come best in youth For when they happen at a riper age, People are apt to blame the Fates, forsooth, And wonder Providence is not more sage. Adversity is the first path to truth: He who hath proved war, storm, or woman's rage, Whether his winters be eighteen or eighty, Has won experience which is deem'd so weighty.
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There is no instinct like that of the heart.
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For the Angel of Death spread his wings on the blast, And breathed in the face of the foe as he passed And the eyes of the sleepers waxed deadly and chill, And their hearts but once heaved, and for ever grew still!
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There is, in fact, no law or government at all and it is wonderful how well things go on without them.
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Man's conscience is the oracle of God.
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And what is writ is writ - / Would it were worthier!
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It has been said that the immortality of the soul is a grand peut-tre -but still it is a grand one. Everybody clings to it -the stupidest, and dullest, and wickedest of human bipeds is still persuaded that he is immortal.
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I loved my country, and I hated him.
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The world is a bundle of hay, Mankind are the asses that pull, Each tugs in a different way And the greatest of all is John Bull!
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History - the devil's scripture
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Poetry should only occupy the idle.
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Oh Rome! My country! City of the soul!
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The French courage proceeds from vanity
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I live not in myself, but I become Portion of that around me: and to me High mountains are a feeling, but the hum of human cities torture.
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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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And Doubt and Discord step 'twixt thine and thee.
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Grief is fantastical, and loves the dead, And the apparel of the grave.
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A small drop of ink makes thousands, perhaps millions... think.
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