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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!

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
Naked
Cigar
Lovers
Tobacco
Divine
Ripe
Rich
Pipe
True
Cigarette
Charmers
Give
Smoking
Beauties
Giving
Glorious
Amber
Admire
Mellow

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Poetry should only occupy the idle.
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I was accused of every monstrous vice by public rumour and private rancour my name, which had been a knightly or noble one, was tainted. I felt that, if what was whispered, and muttered, and murmured, was true, I was unfit for England if false, England was unfit for me.
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Oh who can tell, save he whose heart hath tried.
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A change came o'er the spirit of my dream.
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I do not believe in any religion, I will have nothing to do with immortality. We are miserable enough in this life without speculating upon another.
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Why I came here, I know not where I shall go it is useless to inquire - in the midst of myriads of the living and the dead worlds, stars, systems, infinity, why should I be anxious about an atom?
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I hate all pain, Given or received we have enough within us The meanest vassal as the loftiest monarch, Not to add to each other's natural burden Of mortal misery.
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Then rose from sea to sky the wild farewell Then shriek'd the timid, and stood still the brave, Then some leap'd overboard with fearful yell, As eager to anticipate their grave.
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Keep thy smooth words and juggling homilies for those who know thee not.
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Most glorious night! Thou wert not sent for slumber!
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There is something to me very softening in the presence of a woman, some strange influence, even if one is not in love with them, which I cannot at all account for, having no very high opinion of the sex. But yet, I always feel in better humor with myself and every thing else, if there is a woman within ken.
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I can't but say it is an awkward sight To see one's native land receding through The growing waters it unmans one quite, Especially when life is rather new.
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Every day confirms my opinion on the superiority of a vicious life, and if Virtue is not its own reward, I don't know any other stipend annexed to it.
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Which cheers the sad, revives the old, inspires The young, makes Weariness forget his toil, And Fear her danger opens a new world When this, the present, palls.
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This is to be along this, this is solitude!
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Eat, drink and love...the rest is not worth a nickel
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He makes a solitude, and calls it - peace!
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Just as old age is creeping on space, And clouds come o'er the sunset of our day, They kindly leave us, though not quite alone, But in good company--the gout or stone.
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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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...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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