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Fair Greece! sad relic of departed worth! Immortal, though no more! though fallen, great!
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
Worth
Relic
Though
Relics
Great
Departed
Greece
Immortal
Fallen
Fairs
Fair
More quotes by Lord Byron
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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And those who saw, it did surprise, Such drops could fall from human eyes.
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So sweet the blush of bashfulness, E'en pity scarce can wish it less!
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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 heart will break, but broken live on.
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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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He learned the arts of riding, fencing, gunnery, And how to scale a fortress - or a nunnery.
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I am surrounded here by parsons and methodists, but as you will see, not infested with the mania.
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Fill high the cup with Samian wine!
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Ada! sole daughter of my house and heart.
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Where are the forms the sculptor's soul hath seized? In him alone, Can nature show as fair?
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Happiness was born a twin.
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Most glorious night! Thou wert not sent for slumber!
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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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Tis pleasant purchasing our fellow-creatures And all are to be sold, if you consider Their passions, and are dext'rous some by features Are brought up, others by a warlike leader Some by a place--as tend their years or natures The most by ready cash--but all have prices, From crowns to kicks, according to their vices.
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So for a good old-gentlemanly vice, I think I must take up with avarice.
Lord Byron
Man, being reasonable, must get drunk the best of life is but intoxication.
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Oh! too convincing--dangerously dear-- In woman's eye the unanswerable tear! That weapon of her weakness she can wield, To save, subdue--at once her spear and shield.
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The reading or non-reading a book will never keep down a single petticoat.
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But stories somehow lengthen when begun.
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