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Man is in part divine, A troubled stream from a pure source.
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
Pure
Source
Divine
Part
Men
Troubled
Stream
Streams
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Oh who can tell, save he whose heart hath tried.
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No ear can hear nor tongue can tell the tortures of the inward hell!
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I cannot help thinking that the menace of Hell makes as many devils as the severe penal codes of inhuman humanity make villains.
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So sweet the blush of bashfulness, E'en pity scarce can wish it less!
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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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There is no instinct like that of the heart.
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I am always most religious upon a sunshiny day.
Lord Byron
Few things surpass old wine and they may preach Who please, the more because they preach in vain
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 hate all pain, Given or received we have enough within us The meanest vassal as the loftiest monarch, Not to add to each other's natural burden Of mortal misery.
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For the Angel of Death spread his wings on the blast, And breathed in the face of the foe as he passed And the eyes of the sleepers waxed deadly and chill, And their hearts but once heaved, and for ever grew still!
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Since Eve ate the apple, much depends on dinner.
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Eternity forbids thee to forget.
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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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All human history attests That happiness for man, - the hungry sinner! - Since Eve ate apples, much depends on dinner. ~Lord Byron, Don Juan, Canto XIII, stanza 99
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I am never long, even in the society of her I love, without yearning for the company of my lamp and my library.
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The devil hath not, in all his quiver's choice, An arrow for the heart like a sweet voice.
Lord Byron
A pretty woman is a welcome guest.
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Next to dressing for a rout or ball, undressing is a woe.
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Constancy... that small change of love, which people exact so rigidly, receive in such counterfeit coin, and repay in baser metal.
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