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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
Death
Realm
Reality
Hath
Two
Realms
Things
Boundaries
Life
Wild
Misnamed
World
Wide
Boundary
Sleep
Fold
Existence
Folds
More quotes by Lord Byron
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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He makes a solitude, and calls it - peace!
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In itself a thought, a slumbering thought is capable of years and curdles a long life into one hour.
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Roll on, deep and dark blue ocean, roll. Ten thousand fleets sweep over thee in vain. Man marks the earth with ruin, but his control stops with the shore.
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Fills The air around with beauty.
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Are not the mountains, waves, and skies as much a part of me, as I of them?
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A thirst for gold, The beggar's vice, which can but overwhelm The meanest hearts.
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Tis said that persons living on annuities Are longer lived than others.
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Since Eve ate the apple, much depends on dinner.
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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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Yet smelt roast meat, beheld a huge fire shine, And cooks in motion with their clean arms bared.
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Sleep hath its own world, and the wide realm of wild reality.
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Your thief looks Exactly like the rest, or rather better 'Tis only at the bar, and in the dungeon, That wise men know your felon by his features.
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It has been said that the immortality of the soul is a grand peut-tre -but still it is a grand one. Everybody clings to it -the stupidest, and dullest, and wickedest of human bipeds is still persuaded that he is immortal.
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With thee all tales are sweet each clime has charms earth - sea alike - our world within our arms.
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Who then will explain the explanation?
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Out of chaos God made a world, and out of high passions comes a people.
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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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A man of eighty has outlived probably three new schools of painting, two of architecture and poetry and a hundred in dress.
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Sighing that Nature formed but one such man, and broke the die.
Lord Byron
