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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.

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
Form
Substance
Give
Breath
Giving
Breaths
Mind
Flesh
Make
Forms
People
Fantasy
Planets
Outlive
Beings
Brighter

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Twas twilight, and the sunless day went down Over the waste of waters like a veil, Which, if withdrawn, would but disclose the frown Of one whose hate is mask'd but to assail.
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All Heaven and Earth are still, though not in sleep, But breathless, as we grow when feeling most.
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Like the measles, love is most dangerous when it comes late in life.
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She walks in beauty, like the night Of cloudless climes and starry skies And all that's best of dark and bright Meet in her aspect and her eyes.
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To withdraw myself from myself has ever been my sole, my entire, my sincere motive in scribbling at all.
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Fools are my theme, let satire be my song.
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I cannot conceive why people will always mix up my own character and opinions with those of the imaginary beings which, as a poet, I have the right and liberty to draw.
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Yon Sun that sets upon the sea We follow in his flight Farewell awhile to him and thee, My native land-Good Night!
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Man is born passionate of body, but with an innate though secret tendency to the love of Good in his main-spring of Mind. But God help us all! It is at present a sad jar of atoms.
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Lord of himself that heritage of woe!
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Socrates said, our only knowledge was To know that nothing could be known a pleasant Science enough, which levels to an ass Each Man of Wisdom, future, past, or present. Newton, (that Proverb of the Mind,) alas! Declared, with all his grand discoveries recent, That he himself felt only like a youth Picking up shells by the great Ocean-Truth.
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Romances I ne'er read like those I have seen.
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I depart, Whither I know not but the hour's gone by When Albion's lessening shores could grieve or glad mine eye.
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I should like to know who has been carried off, except poor dear me - I have been more ravished myself than anybody since the Trojan war.
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Near this spot are deposited the remains of one who possessed beauty without vanity, strength without insolence, courage without ferocity, and all the virtues of man, without his vices. This praise, which would be unmeaning flattery if inscribed over human ashes, is but a just tribute to the memory of Botswain, a dog.
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Scion of chiefs and monarchs, where art thou? Fond hope of many nations, art thou dead? Could not the grave forget thee, and lay low Some less majestic, less beloved head?
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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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What is the worst of woes that wait on age? What stamps the wrinkle deeper on the brow? To view each loved one blotted from life's page, And be alone on earth, as I am now.
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Folly loves the martyrdom of fame.
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Tis pleasant purchasing our fellow-creatures And all are to be sold, if you consider Their passions, and are dext'rous some by features Are brought up, others by a warlike leader Some by a place--as tend their years or natures The most by ready cash--but all have prices, From crowns to kicks, according to their vices.
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