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Oh that the desert were my dwelling-place, With one fair spirit for my minister
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
Fairs
Fair
Spirit
Place
Dwelling
Minister
Ministers
Desert
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Think'st thou existence doth depend on time? It doth but actions are our epochs.
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Jealousy dislikes the world to know it.
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Have not all past human beings parted, And must not all the present, one day part?
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Every day confirms my opinion on the superiority of a vicious life, and if Virtue is not its own reward, I don't know any other stipend annexed to it.
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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.
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Man, being reasonable, must get drunk the best of life is but intoxication.
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I am surrounded here by parsons and methodists, but as you will see, not infested with the mania.
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[Armenian] is a rich language, however, and would amply repay any one the trouble of learning it.
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Tis an old lesson time approves it true, And those who know it best, deplore it most When all is won that all desire to woo, The paltry prize is hardly worth the cost.
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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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Ah, nut-brown partridges! Ah, brilliant pheasants! And ah, ye poachers!--'Tis no sport for peasants.
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Frienship is eros...without wings
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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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If ancient tales say true, nor wrong these holy men.
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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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Ada! sole daughter of my house and heart.
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Who then will explain the explanation?
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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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We have fools in all sects, and impostors in most why should I believe mysteries no one can understand, because written by men who chose to mistake madness for inspiration and style themselves Evangelicals?
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I only know we loved in vain I only feel-farewell! farewell!
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