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My altars are the mountains and the ocean.
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
Ocean
Altars
Mountains
Mountain
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Man, being reasonable, must get drunk the best of life is but intoxication.
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I do not believe in any religion, I will have nothing to do with immortality. We are miserable enough in this life without speculating upon another.
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In England the only homage which they pay to Virtue - is hypocrisy.
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Fills The air around with beauty.
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For truth is always strange stranger than fiction.
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My slumbers--if I slumber--are not sleep, But a continuance of enduring thought, Which then I can resist not: in my heart There is a vigil, and these eyes but close To look within and yet I live, and bear The aspect and the form of breathing men.
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I loved my country, and I hated him.
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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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For through the South the custom still commands The gentleman to kiss the lady's hands.
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What deep wounds ever closed without a scar? The hearts bleed longest, and heals but to wear That which disfigures it.
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Why I came here, I know not where I shall go it is useless to inquire - in the midst of myriads of the living and the dead worlds, stars, systems, infinity, why should I be anxious about an atom?
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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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Let us have wine and women, mirth and laughter, sermons and soda water the day after.
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Knowledge is not happiness, and science But an exchange of ignorance for that Which is another kind of ignorance.
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Ye stars! which are the poetry of heaven!
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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.
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The reading or non-reading a book will never keep down a single petticoat.
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Most glorious night! Thou wert not sent for slumber!
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