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Land of lost gods and godlike men.
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
Land
Lost
Men
Godlike
Gods
Losing
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Oh who can tell, save he whose heart hath tried.
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I loved my country, and I hated him.
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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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I speak not of men's creeds—they rest between Man and his Maker.
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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 have great hopes that we shall love each other all our lives as much as if we had never married at all.
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The 'good old times' - all times when old are good.
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The Coach does not play in the game, but the Coach helps the players identify areas to improve their game.
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This sort of adoration of the real is but a heightening of the beau ideal.
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By headless Charles see heartless Henry lies.
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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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It is true from early habit, one must make love mechanically as one swims I was once very fond of both, but now as I never swim unless I tumble into the water, I don't make love till almost obliged.
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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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Fair Greece! sad relic of departed worth! Immortal, though no more! though fallen, great!
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Tis said that persons living on annuities Are longer lived than others.
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Then, fare thee well, deceitful Maid!
Lord Byron
I am so convinced of the advantages of looking at mankind instead of reading about them, . . . that I think there should be a law amongst us to set our young men abroad for a term among the few allies our wars have left us.
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With thee all tales are sweet each clime has charms earth - sea alike - our world within our arms.
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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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Grieving, if aught inanimate e'er grieves, Over the unreturning brave.
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