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Yet smelt roast meat, beheld a huge fire shine, And cooks in motion with their clean arms bared.

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
Fire
Shine
Motion
Cooks
Meat
Smelt
Shining
Bared
Clean
Beheld
Arms
Cookery
Huge
Roast

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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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Oh that the desert were my dwelling-place, With one fair spirit for my minister
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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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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.
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Sighing that Nature formed but one such man, and broke the die.
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The French courage proceeds from vanity
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And dreams in their development have breath, And tears, and tortures, and the touch of joy They have a weight upon our waking thoughts, They take a weight from off our waking toils, They do divide our being.
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I know that two and two make four - and should be glad to prove it too if I could - though I must say if by any sort of process I could convert 2 and 2 into five it would give me much greater pleasure.
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If I could always read, I should never feel the want of company.
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Pure friendship's well-feigned blush.
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In England the only homage which they pay to Virtue - is hypocrisy.
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But 'midst the crowd, the hum, the shock of men, To hear, to see, to feel, and to possess, And roam along, the world's tired denizen, With none who bless us, none whom we can bless.
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Pleasure's a sin, and sometimes sin's a pleasure.
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Our life is two fold Sleep hath its own world, A boundary between the things misnamed Death and existence Sleep hath its own world, And a wide realm of wild reality.
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You gave me the key to your heart, my love, then why did you make me knock?
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