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Farewell! if ever fondest prayer For other's weal avail'd on high, Mine will not all be lost in air, But waft thy name beyond the sky.
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
Names
Sky
High
Mines
Lost
Mine
Ever
Air
Waft
Losing
Weal
Beyond
Fondest
Name
Avail
Prayer
Farewell
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'Tis pleasant, sure, to see one's name in print. A book's a book, although there's nothing in 't.
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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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Now I shall go to sleep. Goodnight.
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The Christian has greatly the advantage of the unbeliever, having everything to gain and nothing to lose.
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The stars are forth, the moon above the tops Of the snow-shining mountains--beautiful! I linger yet with nature, for the night Hath been to me a more familiar face Than that of man, and in her starry shade Of dim and solitary loveliness I learned the language of another world.
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Out of chaos God made a world, and out of high passions comes a people.
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Man is a carnivorous production, And must have meals, at least one meal a day He cannot live, like woodcocks, upon suction, But, like the shark and tiger, must have prey Although his anatomical construction Bears vegetables, in a grumbling way, Your laboring people think beyond all question, Beef, veal, and mutton better for digestion.
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The great object of life is Sensation - to feel that we exist - even though in pain - it is this craving void which drives us to gaming - to battle - to travel - to intemperate but keenly felt pursuits of every description whose principal attraction is the agitation inseparable from their accomplishment.
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I loved my country, and I hated him.
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Nothing so difficult as a beginning In poesy, unless perhaps the end.
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Eternal Spirit of the chainless Mind! Brightest in dungeons, Liberty! thou art, For there thy habitation is the heart-- The heart which love of thee alone can bind And when thy sons to fetters are consign'd-- To fetters and damp vault's dayless gloom, Their country conquers with their martyrdom.
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I depart, Whither I know not but the hour's gone by When Albion's lessening shores could grieve or glad mine eye.
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But there are wanderers o'er Eternity Whose bark drives on and on, and anchor'd ne'er shall be.
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In general I do not draw well with literary men -- not that I dislike them but I never know what to say to them after I have praised their last publication.
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