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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
Life
Wild
Misnamed
World
Wide
Boundary
Sleep
Fold
Existence
Folds
Death
Realm
Reality
Hath
Two
Realms
Things
Boundaries
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This quiet sail is as a noiseless wing To waft me from distraction.
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The place is very well and quiet and the children only scream in a low voice.
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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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...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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Divine in hookas, glorious in a pipe When tipp'd with amber, mellow, rich, and ripe... Yet thy true lovers more admire by far Thy naked beauties - give me a cigar!
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Smiles form the channels of a future tear.
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I should, many a good day, have blown my brains out, but for the recollection that it would have given pleasure to my mother-in-law.
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All who joy would win must share it. Happiness was born a Twin.
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In hope to merit heaven by making earth a hell.
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Man marks the earth with ruin - his control stops with the shore.
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Despair and Genius are too oft connected
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We are all the fools of time and terror: Days Steal on us and steal from us yet we live, Loathing our life, and dreading still to die.
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Keep thy smooth words and juggling homilies for those who know thee not.
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I have had, and may have still, a thousand friends, as they are called, in life, who are like one's partners in the waltz of this world -not much remembered when the ball is over.
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Oh who can tell, save he whose heart hath tried.
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They used to say that knowledge is power. I used to think so, but I know now they mean money.
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