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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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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
Shall
Wanderers
Anchor
Anchors
Bark
Drives
Eternity
Whose
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And dreams in their development have breath, And tears, and tortures, and the touch of joy They have a weight upon our waking thoughts, They take a weight from off our waking toils, They do divide our being.
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I cannot conceive why people will always mix up my own character and opinions with those of the imaginary beings which, as a poet, I have the right and liberty to draw.
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And wrinkles, the damned democrats, won't flatter.
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Ah, happy years! once more who would not be a boy?
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This quiet sail is as a noiseless wing To waft me from distraction.
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Since Eve ate the apple, much depends on dinner.
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Parting day Dies like the dolphin, whom each pang imbues With a new colour as it gasps away, The last still loveliest, till-'t is gone, and all is gray.
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All Heaven and Earth are still, though not in sleep, But breathless, as we grow when feeling most.
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I have a great mind to believe in Christianity for the mere pleasure of fancying I may be damned.
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He makes a solitude, and calls it - peace!
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Twas twilight, and the sunless day went down Over the waste of waters like a veil, Which, if withdrawn, would but disclose the frown Of one whose hate is mask'd but to assail.
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Sweet is old wine in bottles, ale in barrels.
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I know that two and two make four - and should be glad to prove it too if I could - though I must say if by any sort of process I could convert 2 and 2 into five it would give me much greater pleasure.
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I only know we loved in vain I only feel-farewell! farewell!
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My native land, good night!
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Opinions are made to be changed or how is truth to be got at?
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No ear can hear nor tongue can tell the tortures of the inward hell!
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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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This is to be mortal, And seek the things beyond mortality.
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