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One hates an author that's all author.

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
Hates
Author
Hate
Writing

More quotes by Lord Byron

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Yet he was jealous, though he did not show it, For jealousy dislikes the world to know it.
Lord Byron
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Pleasure's a sin, and sometimes sin's a pleasure.
Lord Byron
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The heart will break, but broken live on.
Lord Byron
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The English winter - ending in July to recommence in August
Lord Byron
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I am so convinced of the advantages of looking at mankind instead of reading about them, . . . that I think there should be a law amongst us to set our young men abroad for a term among the few allies our wars have left us.
Lord Byron
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Curiosity kills itself and love is only curiosity, as is proved by its end.
Lord Byron
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It is the lava of the imagination whose eruption prevents an earthquake.
Lord Byron
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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.
Lord Byron
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Kill a man's family, and he may brook it, But keep your hands out of his breeches' pocket.
Lord Byron
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The fact is that my wife if she had common sense would have more power over me than any other whatsoever, for my heart always alights upon the nearest perch.
Lord Byron
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I depart, Whither I know not but the hour's gone by When Albion's lessening shores could grieve or glad mine eye.
Lord Byron
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And then he danced,-all foreigners excel the serious Angels in the eloquence of pantomime-he danced, I say, right well, with emphasis, and a'so with good sense-a thing in footing indispensable: he danced without theatrical pretence, not like a ballet-master in the van of his drill'd nymphs, but like a gentleman.
Lord Byron
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Death, so called, is a thing which makes men weep, And yet a third of life is passed in sleep.
Lord Byron
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Frienship is eros...without wings
Lord Byron
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But there are wanderers o'er Eternity Whose bark drives on and on, and anchor'd ne'er shall be.
Lord Byron
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'Tis pleasant, sure, to see one's name in print. A book's a book, although there's nothing in 't.
Lord Byron
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This is to be along this, this is solitude!
Lord Byron
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Hearts will break - yet brokenly, live on.
Lord Byron
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For the Angel of Death spread his wings on the blast, And breathed in the face of the foe as he passed And the eyes of the sleepers waxed deadly and chill, And their hearts but once heaved, and for ever grew still!
Lord Byron
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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.
Lord Byron