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The image of Eternity--the throne Of the Invisible even from out thy slime The monsters of the deep are made each zone Obeys thee thou goest forth, dread, fathomless, alone.
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
Deep
Monsters
Alone
Forth
Fathomless
Even
Invisible
Obeys
Made
Thou
Slime
Thee
Throne
Image
Thrones
Eternity
Dread
Ocean
Zone
More quotes by Lord Byron
Poetry should only occupy the idle.
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The reading or non-reading a book will never keep down a single petticoat.
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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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There is no passion, more spectral or fantastical than hate, not even its opposite, love, so peoples air, with phantoms, as this madness of the heart.
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A thirst for gold, The beggar's vice, which can but overwhelm The meanest hearts.
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But stories somehow lengthen when begun.
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Absence - that common cure of love.
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Send me no more reviews of any kind. I will read no more of evil or good in that line. Walter Scott has not read a review of himself for thirteen years .
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Years steal fire from the mind as vigor from the limb and life's enchanted cup but sparkles near the brim.
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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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That famish'd people must be slowly nurst, and fed by spoonfuls, else they always burst.
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I do not believe in any religion, I will have nothing to do with immortality. We are miserable enough in this life without speculating upon another.
Lord Byron
Fair Greece! sad relic of departed worth! Immortal, though no more! though fallen, great!
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Man is born passionate of body, but with an innate though secret tendency to the love of Good in his main-spring of Mind. But God help us all! It is at present a sad jar of atoms.
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Yet smelt roast meat, beheld a huge fire shine, And cooks in motion with their clean arms bared.
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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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I would rather have a nod from an American, than a snuff- box from an emperor.
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Curiosity kills itself and love is only curiosity, as is proved by its end.
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Thy decay's still impregnate with divinity.
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Men love in haste, but they detest at leisure.
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