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The waves were dead the tides were in their grave, The moon, their mistress, had expir'd before The winds were wither'd in the stagnant air, And the clouds perish'd Darkness had no need Of aid from them-She was the Universe.
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
Wind
Grave
Dead
Graves
Wither
Universe
Aids
Stagnant
Need
Wave
Perish
Needs
Clouds
Winds
Air
Mistress
Moon
Tides
Darkness
Waves
More quotes by Lord Byron
One hates an author that's all author.
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Happiness was born a twin.
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Send me no more reviews of any kind. I will read no more of evil or good in that line. Walter Scott has not read a review of himself for thirteen years .
Lord Byron
Religion-freedom-vengeance-what you will, A word's enough to raise mankind to kill.
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Do proper homage to thine idol's eyes But no too humbly, or she will despise Thee and thy suit, though told in moving tropes: Disguise even tenderness if thou art wise.
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This sort of adoration of the real is but a heightening of the beau ideal.
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But what is Hope? Nothing but the paint on the face of Existence the least touch of truth rubs it off, and then we see what a hollow-cheeked harlot we have got hold of.
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Fame is the thirst of youth.
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Death, so called, is a thing which makes men weep, And yet a third of life is passed in sleep.
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The premises are so delightfully extensive, that two people might live together without ever seeing, hearing or meeting.
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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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Who tracks the steps of glory to the grave?
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They truly mourn, that mourn without a witness.
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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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Where are the forms the sculptor's soul hath seized? In him alone, Can nature show as fair?
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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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My altars are the mountains and the ocean.
Lord Byron
I slept and dreamt that life was beauty I woke and found that life was duty.
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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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Be hypocritical, be cautious, be not what you seem but always what you see.
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