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Alas! how deeply painful is all payment!
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
Painful
Pain
Payment
Alas
Deeply
More quotes by Lord Byron
My altars are the mountains and the ocean.
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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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The great art of life is sensation, to feel that we exist, even in pain.
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Yet he was jealous, though he did not show it, For jealousy dislikes the world to know it.
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Sleep hath its own world, and the wide realm of wild reality.
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There is no passion, more spectral or fantastical than hate, not even its opposite, love, so peoples air, with phantoms, as this madness of the heart.
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I am always most religious upon a sunshiny day.
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The devil hath not, in all his quiver's choice, An arrow for the heart like a sweet voice.
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With flowing tail and flying mane, Wide nostrils never stretched by pain, Mouth bloodless to bit or rein, And feet that iron never shod, And flanks unscar'd by spur or rod, A thousand horses - the wild - the free - Like waves that follow o'er the sea, Came thickly thundering on.
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The poetry of speech.
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Man's conscience is the oracle of God.
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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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Eat, drink and love...the rest is not worth a nickel
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Oh that the desert were my dwelling-place, With one fair spirit for my minister
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The place is very well and quiet and the children only scream in a low voice.
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He learned the arts of riding, fencing, gunnery, And how to scale a fortress - or a nunnery.
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Bologna is celebrated for producing popes, painters, and sausage.
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Now I shall go to sleep. Goodnight.
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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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None are so desolate but something dear, Dearer than self, possesses or possess'd A thought, and claims the homage of a tear.
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