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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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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
Waiting
Waits
Years
Aged
Life
Woe
World
Depths
Grown
Deeds
Depth
Wonder
Piercing
More quotes by Lord Byron
Of religion I know nothing -- at least, in its favor.
Lord Byron
But there are wanderers o'er Eternity Whose bark drives on and on, and anchor'd ne'er shall be.
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But at sixteen the conscience rarely gnaws So much, as when we call our old debts in At sixty years, and draw the accounts of evil, And find a deuced balance with the devil.
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I stood among them, but not of them: in a shroud of thoughts which were not their thoughts.
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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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And wrinkles, the damned democrats, won't flatter.
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It has been said that the immortality of the soul is a grand peut-tre -but still it is a grand one. Everybody clings to it -the stupidest, and dullest, and wickedest of human bipeds is still persuaded that he is immortal.
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The 'good old times' - all times when old are good.
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America is a model of force and freedom and moderation - with all the coarseness and rudeness of its people.
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Grieving, if aught inanimate e'er grieves, Over the unreturning brave.
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If we must have a tyrant, let him at least be a gentleman who has been bred to the business, and let us fall by the axe and not by the butcher's cleaver.
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Smiles form the channels of a future tear.
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Oh who can tell, save he whose heart hath tried.
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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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Tis said that persons living on annuities Are longer lived than others.
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For truth is always strange stranger than fiction.
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Let not his mode of raising cash seem strange, Although he fleeced the flags of every nation, For into a prime minister but change His title, and 'tis nothing but taxation.
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I slept and dreamt that life was beauty I woke and found that life was duty.
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A drop of ink may make a million think.
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Man is in part divine, A troubled stream from a pure source.
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