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Then, fare thee well, deceitful Maid!
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
Fare
Maid
Deceitful
Maids
Deceit
Thee
Lying
Wells
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You should have a softer pillow than my heart.
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Hatred is the madness of the heart.
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I have not loved the World, nor the World me I have not flattered its rank breath, nor bowed To its idolatries a patient knee, Nor coined my cheek to smiles,-nor cried aloud In worship of an echo.
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By headless Charles see heartless Henry lies.
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In England the only homage which they pay to Virtue - is hypocrisy.
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I came to realize clearly that the mind is no other than the Mountain and the Rivers and the great wide Earth, the Sun and the Moon and the Sky”.
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A celebrity is one who is known to many persons he is glad he doesn't know.
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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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There's naught, no doubt, so much the spirit calms as rum and true religion.
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She walks in beauty, like the night Of cloudless climes and starry skies And all that's best of dark and bright Meet in her aspect and her eyes.
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Friendship may, and often does, grow into love, but love never subsides into friendship.
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He learned the arts of riding, fencing, gunnery, And how to scale a fortress - or a nunnery.
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Admire, exult, despise, laugh, weep for here There is such matter for all feelings: Man! Thou pendulum betwixt a smile and tear.
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This is the patent age of new inventions for killing bodies, and for saving souls. All propagated with the best intentions.
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Smiles form the channels of a future tear.
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Despair and Genius are too oft connected
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This is to be along this, this is solitude!
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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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And Doubt and Discord step 'twixt thine and thee.
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