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Now what I love in women is, they won't Or can't do otherwise than lie, but do it. So well, the very truth seems falsehood to it.
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
Otherwise
Lying
Truth
Seems
Women
Wells
Well
Love
Falsehood
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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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But stories somehow lengthen when begun.
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Knowledge is not happiness, and science But an exchange of ignorance for that Which is another kind of ignorance.
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It is true from early habit, one must make love mechanically as one swims I was once very fond of both, but now as I never swim unless I tumble into the water, I don't make love till almost obliged.
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There is no instinct like that of the heart.
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A thirst for gold, The beggar's vice, which can but overwhelm The meanest hearts.
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I am about to be married, and am of course in all the misery of a man in pursuit of happiness.
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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.
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Prolonged endurance tames the bold.
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Twas twilight, and the sunless day went down Over the waste of waters like a veil, Which, if withdrawn, would but disclose the frown Of one whose hate is mask'd but to assail.
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The very best of vineyards is the cellar
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I am the very slave of circumstance And impulse borne away with every breath! Misplaced upon the throne misplaced in life. I know not what I could have been, but feel I am not what I should be let it end.
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Retirement accords with the tone of my mind I will not descend to a world I despise.
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Above or Love, Hope, Hate or Fear, It lives all passionless and pure: An age shall fleet like earthly year Its years in moments shall endure. Away, away, without a wing, O'er all, through all, its thought shall fly A nameless and eternal thing, Forgetting what it was to die.
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The bright sun was extinguish'd, and the stars Did wander darkling in the eternal space.
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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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Do proper homage to thine idol's eyes But no too humbly, or she will despise Thee and thy suit, though told in moving tropes: Disguise even tenderness if thou art wise.
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Age shakes Athena's tower, but spares gray Marathon.
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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.
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'Twas strange that one so young should thus concern His brain about the action of the sky If you think 'twas philosophy that this did, I can't help thinking puberty assisted.
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