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Tis said that persons living on annuities Are longer lived than others.
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
Lived
Longer
Living
Others
Persons
More quotes by Lord Byron
But at sixteen the conscience rarely gnaws So much, as when we call our old debts in At sixty years, and draw the accounts of evil, And find a deuced balance with the devil.
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I die but first I have possessed, And come what may, I have been blessed.
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Letter writing is the only device combining solitude with good company.
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I loved my country, and I hated him.
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In itself a thought, a slumbering thought is capable of years and curdles a long life into one hour.
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We are all the fools of time and terror: Days Steal on us and steal from us yet we live, Loathing our life, and dreading still to die.
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Socrates said, our only knowledge was To know that nothing could be known a pleasant Science enough, which levels to an ass Each Man of Wisdom, future, past, or present. Newton, (that Proverb of the Mind,) alas! Declared, with all his grand discoveries recent, That he himself felt only like a youth Picking up shells by the great Ocean-Truth.
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Life is too short for chess.
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The Niobe of nations! there she stands.
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Oh, Mirth and Innocence! Oh, Milk and Water! Ye happy mixture of more happy days!
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The world is a bundle of hay, Mankind are the asses that pull, Each tugs in a different way And the greatest of all is John Bull!
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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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This is to be mortal, And seek the things beyond mortality.
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The bright sun was extinguish'd, and the stars Did wander darkling in the eternal space.
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I should like to know who has been carried off, except poor dear me - I have been more ravished myself than anybody since the Trojan war.
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It is the lava of the imagination whose eruption prevents an earthquake.
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Who then will explain the explanation?
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What is Death, so it be but glorious? 'Tis a sunset And mortals may be happy to resemble The Gods but in decay.
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Fill high the cup with Samian wine!
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None are so desolate but something dear, Dearer than self, possesses or possess'd A thought, and claims the homage of a tear.
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