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Our life is two fold Sleep hath its own world, A boundary between the things misnamed Death and existence Sleep hath its own world, And a wide realm of wild reality.
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
World
Wide
Boundary
Sleep
Fold
Existence
Folds
Death
Realm
Reality
Hath
Two
Realms
Things
Boundaries
Life
Wild
Misnamed
More quotes by Lord Byron
There is music in all things, if men had ears.
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Grief is fantastical, and loves the dead, And the apparel of the grave.
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He who grown aged in this world of woe, In deeds, not years, piercing the depths of life, So that no wonder waits him.
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This is the patent-age of new inventions For killing bodies, and for saving souls, All propagated with the best intentions Sir Humphrey Davy's lantern, by which coals Are safely mined for in the mode he mentions, Tombuctoo travels, voyages to the Poles, Are ways to benefit mankind, as true, Perhaps, as shooting them at Waterloo.
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He who is only just is cruel who Upon the earth would live were all judged justly?
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Thy decay's still impregnate with divinity.
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A material resurrection seems strange and even absurd except for purposes of punishment, and all punishment which is to revenge rather than correct must be morally wrong, and when the World is at an end, what moral or warning purpose can eternal tortures answer?
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It is singular how soon we lose the impression of what ceases to be constantly before us. A year impairs, a luster obliterates. There is little distinct left without an effort of memory, then indeed the lights are rekindled for a moment - but who can be sure that the Imagination is not the torch-bearer?
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By Heaven! it is a splendid sight to see For one who hath no friend, no brother there.
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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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I suppose we shall soon travel by air-vessels make air instead of sea voyages and at length find our way to the moon, in spite of the want of atmosphere.
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Ye stars! which are the poetry of heaven!
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Pleasure's a sin, and sometimes sin's a pleasure.
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Years steal fire from the mind as vigor from the limb and life's enchanted cup but sparkles near the brim.
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Think you, if Laura had been Petrarch's wife, He would have written sonnets all his life?.
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Let no man grumble when his friends fall off, As they will do like leaves at the first breeze When your affairs come round, one way or t'other, Go to the coffee house, and take another.
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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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Eternity forbids thee to forget.
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The great art of life is sensation, to feel that we exist, even in pain.
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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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