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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.
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
Love
Habit
Mechanically
Unless
Tumble
Almost
Fond
Water
Obliged
True
Swim
Must
Till
Make
Sex
Never
Early
Swims
More quotes by Lord Byron
Ye stars! which are the poetry of heaven!
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What is Death, so it be but glorious? 'Tis a sunset And mortals may be happy to resemble The Gods but in decay.
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What's drinking? A mere pause from thinking!
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In general I do not draw well with literary men -- not that I dislike them but I never know what to say to them after I have praised their last publication.
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Had sigh'd to many, though he loved but one.
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Father of Light! great God of Heaven! Hear'st thou the accents of despair? Can guilt like man's be e'er forgiven? Can vice atone for crimes by prayer.
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And Doubt and Discord step 'twixt thine and thee.
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The mind can make substance, and people planets of its own with beings brighter than have been, and give a breath to forms which can outlive all flesh.
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Man is in part divine, A troubled stream from a pure source.
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Fill high the cup with Samian wine!
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All who joy would win must share it. Happiness was born a Twin.
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Now I shall go to sleep. Goodnight.
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The heart will break, but broken live on.
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The keenest pangs the wretched find Are rapture to the dreary void, The leafless desert of the mind, The waste of feelings unemployed.
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A pretty woman is a welcome guest.
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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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Keep thy smooth words and juggling homilies for those who know thee not.
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The great art of life is sensation, to feel that we exist, even in pain.
Lord Byron
