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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.

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
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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
Art
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Never
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Man is in part divine, A troubled stream from a pure source.
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Folly loves the martyrdom of fame.
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Yet he was jealous, though he did not show it, For jealousy dislikes the world to know it.
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What men call gallantry, and gods adultery, is much more common where the climate's sultry.
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Such is your cold coquette, who can't say No, And won't say Yes, and keeps you on and off-ing On a lee-shore, till it begins to blow, Then sees your heart wreck'd, with an inward scoffing.
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Letter writing is the only device combining solitude with good company.
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I have had, and may have still, a thousand friends, as they are called, in life, who are like one's partners in the waltz of this world -not much remembered when the ball is over.
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And wrinkles, the damned democrats, won't flatter.
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The fact is that my wife if she had common sense would have more power over me than any other whatsoever, for my heart always alights upon the nearest perch.
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And life 's enchanted cup but sparkles near the brim.
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Roll on, deep and dark blue ocean, roll. Ten thousand fleets sweep over thee in vain. Man marks the earth with ruin, but his control stops with the shore.
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It is singular how soon we lose the impression of what ceases to be constantly before us. A year impairs, a luster obliterates. There is little distinct left without an effort of memory, then indeed the lights are rekindled for a moment - but who can be sure that the Imagination is not the torch-bearer?
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Most glorious night! Thou wert not sent for slumber!
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Our life is two fold Sleep hath its own world, A boundary between the things misnamed Death and existence Sleep hath its own world, And a wide realm of wild reality.
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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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The law of heaven and earth is life for life.
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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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This is the patent age of new inventions for killing bodies, and for saving souls. All propagated with the best intentions.
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The image of Eternity--the throne Of the Invisible even from out thy slime The monsters of the deep are made each zone Obeys thee thou goest forth, dread, fathomless, alone.
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Your thief looks Exactly like the rest, or rather better 'Tis only at the bar, and in the dungeon, That wise men know your felon by his features.
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