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Father of Light! great God of Heaven! Hear'st thou the accents of despair? Can guilt like man's be e'er forgiven? Can vice atone for crimes by prayer.
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
Like
Crime
Accents
Hear
Crimes
Prayer
Forgiven
Heaven
Vice
Father
Vices
Light
Guilt
Great
Thou
Men
Despair
Atone
More quotes by Lord Byron
Have not all past human beings parted, And must not all the present, one day part?
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Bologna is celebrated for producing popes, painters, and sausage.
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America is a model of force and freedom and moderation - with all the coarseness and rudeness of its people.
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O ye! who teach the ingenious youth of nations, Holland, France, England, Germany or Spain, I pray ye flog them upon all occasions, It mends their morals, never mind the pain.
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What should I have known or written had I been a quiet, mercantile politician or a lord in waiting? A man must travel, and turmoil, or there is no existence.
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The bright sun was extinguish'd, and the stars Did wander darkling in the eternal space.
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May Moorland weavers boast Pindaric skill, And tailors' lays be longer than their bill! While punctual beaux reward the grateful notes, And pay for poems--when they pay for coats.
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My heart in passion, and my head on rhymes.
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I loved my country, and I hated him.
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Happiness was born a twin.
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What's drinking? A mere pause from thinking!
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Lord of himself that heritage of woe!
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The art of angling, the cruelest, the coldest and the stupidest of pretended sports.
Lord Byron
Eat, drink and love...the rest is not worth a nickel
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Ah, nut-brown partridges! Ah, brilliant pheasants! And ah, ye poachers!--'Tis no sport for peasants.
Lord Byron
All who joy would win must share it. Happiness was born a Twin.
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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
Lord Byron
My slumbers--if I slumber--are not sleep, But a continuance of enduring thought, Which then I can resist not: in my heart There is a vigil, and these eyes but close To look within and yet I live, and bear The aspect and the form of breathing men.
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Man's conscience is the oracle of God.
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Dead scandals form good subjects for dissection.
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