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Pure friendship's well-feigned blush.
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
Well
Feigned
Blushing
Blush
Friendship
Pure
Wells
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If I could always read, I should never feel the want of company.
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You gave me the key to your heart, my love, then why did you make me knock?
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Jealousy dislikes the world to know it.
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Venice once was dear, The pleasant place of all festivity, The revel of the earth, the masque of Italy.
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Man's conscience is the oracle of God.
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The English winter - ending in July to recommence in August
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To withdraw myself from myself has ever been my sole, my entire, my sincere motive in scribbling at all.
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O Fame! if I ever took delight in thy praises, Twas less for the sake of thy high-sounding phrases, Than to see the bright eyes of the dear one discover The thought that I was not unworthy to love her.
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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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No words suffice the secret soul to show, For truth denies all eloquence to woe.
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For what were all these country patriots born? To hunt, and vote, and raise the price of corn?
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The great object of life is Sensation - to feel that we exist - even though in pain - it is this craving void which drives us to gaming - to battle - to travel - to intemperate but keenly felt pursuits of every description whose principal attraction is the agitation inseparable from their accomplishment.
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Still from the fount of joy's delicious springs Some bitter o'er the flowers its bubbling venom flings.
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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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Romances I ne'er read like those I have seen.
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Ye stars! which are the poetry of heaven!
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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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I slept and dreamt that life was beauty I woke and found that life was duty.
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And gentle winds and waters near, make music to the lonely ear.
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Though sages may pour out their wisdom's treasure, there is no sterner moralist than pleasure.
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