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I have not loved the World, nor the World me I have not flattered its rank breath, nor bowed To its idolatries a patient knee, Nor coined my cheek to smiles,-nor cried aloud In worship of an echo.

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
Loved
Echoes
Aloud
World
Cheeks
Flattered
Cried
Idolatry
Knees
Knee
Breath
Echo
Breaths
Cheek
Patient
Rank
Coined
Worship
Smiles
Bowed

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Man's conscience is the oracle of God.
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Nothing so difficult as a beginning In poesy, unless perhaps the end.
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The poetry of speech.
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A celebrity is one who is known to many persons he is glad he doesn't know.
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And life 's enchanted cup but sparkles near the brim.
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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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Still from the fount of joy's delicious springs Some bitter o'er the flowers its bubbling venom flings.
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The very best of vineyards is the cellar
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I only know we loved in vain I only feel-farewell! farewell!
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Happiness was born a twin.
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Then rose from sea to sky the wild farewell Then shriek'd the timid, and stood still the brave, Then some leap'd overboard with fearful yell, As eager to anticipate their grave.
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All who joy would win must share it. Happiness was born a Twin.
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Oh who can tell, save he whose heart hath tried.
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For truth is always strange stranger than fiction.
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Then, fare thee well, deceitful Maid!
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The keenest pangs the wretched find Are rapture to the dreary void, The leafless desert of the mind, The waste of feelings unemployed.
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Pure friendship's well-feigned blush.
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Absence - that common cure of love.
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Man is a carnivorous production, And must have meals, at least one meal a day He cannot live, like woodcocks, upon suction, But, like the shark and tiger, must have prey Although his anatomical construction Bears vegetables, in a grumbling way, Your laboring people think beyond all question, Beef, veal, and mutton better for digestion.
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