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Better to sink beneath the shock Than moulder piecemeal on the rock!

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
Better
Piecemeal
Sink
Beneath
Shock
Rock
Rocks

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We have fools in all sects, and impostors in most why should I believe mysteries no one can understand, because written by men who chose to mistake madness for inspiration and style themselves Evangelicals?
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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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Now what I love in women is, they won't Or can't do otherwise than lie, but do it. So well, the very truth seems falsehood to it.
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What men call gallantry, and gods adultery, is much more common where the climate's sultry.
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Ye stars! which are the poetry of heaven!
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All Heaven and Earth are still, though not in sleep, But breathless, as we grow when feeling most.
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Think'st thou existence doth depend on time? It doth but actions are our epochs.
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Venice once was dear, The pleasant place of all festivity, The revel of the earth, the masque of Italy.
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This quiet sail is as a noiseless wing To waft me from distraction.
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Poetry should only occupy the idle.
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Damn description, it is always disgusting.
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Fame is the thirst of youth.
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Know ye the land where the cypress and myrtle Are emblems of deeds that are done in their clime? Where the rage of the vulture, the love of the turtle, Now melt into sorrow, now madden to crime!
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Since Eve ate the apple, much depends on dinner.
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The Christian has greatly the advantage of the unbeliever, having everything to gain and nothing to lose.
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Though the day of my Destiny 's over, And the star of my Fate hath declined, Thy soft heart refused to discover The faults which so many could find.
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For truth is always strange stranger than fiction.
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