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I learned to love despair.
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
Learned
Love
Despair
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My heart in passion, and my head on rhymes.
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I doubt sometimes whether a quiet and unagitated life would have suited me - yet I sometimes long for it.
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Oh, talk not to me of a name great in story The days of our youth are the days of our glory And the myrtle and ivy of sweet two-and-twenty Are worth all your laurels, though ever so plenty.
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A little still she strove, and much repented, And whispering “I will ne'er consent”—consented.
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The place is very well and quiet and the children only scream in a low voice.
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There is music in all things, if men had ears.
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Go let thy less than woman's hand Assume the distaff not the brand.
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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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Lord of himself that heritage of woe!
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Yet smelt roast meat, beheld a huge fire shine, And cooks in motion with their clean arms bared.
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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 Sir Humphrey Davy's lantern, by which coals Are safely mined for in the mode he mentions, Tombuctoo travels, voyages to the Poles, Are ways to benefit mankind, as true, Perhaps, as shooting them at Waterloo.
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A timid mind is apt to mistake every scratch for a mortal wound.
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Earth! render back from out thy breast A remnant of our Spartan dead! Of the three hundred grant but three, To make a new Thermopylæ!
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Think'st thou there is no tyranny but that Of blood and chains? The despotism of vice-- The weakness and the wickedness of luxury-- The negligence--the apathy--the evils Of sensual sloth--produces ten thousand tyrants, Whose delegated cruelty surpasses The worst acts of one energetic master, However harsh and hard in his own bearing.
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Tis said that persons living on annuities Are longer lived than others.
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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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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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I am about to be married, and am of course in all the misery of a man in pursuit of happiness.
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