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This is to be along this, this is solitude!

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
Along
Solitude

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It is not one man nor a million, but the spirit of liberty that must be preserved. The waves which dash upon the shore are, one by one, broken, but the ocean conquers nevertheless. It overwhelms the Armada, it wears out the rock. In like manner, whatever the struggle of individuals, the great cause will gather strength.
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'Twas strange that one so young should thus concern His brain about the action of the sky If you think 'twas philosophy that this did, I can't help thinking puberty assisted.
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Poetry should only occupy the idle.
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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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Pure friendship's well-feigned blush.
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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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Venice once was dear, The pleasant place of all festivity, The revel of the earth, the masque of Italy.
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My native land, good night!
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Most glorious night! Thou wert not sent for slumber!
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Tis an old lesson time approves it true, And those who know it best, deplore it most When all is won that all desire to woo, The paltry prize is hardly worth the cost.
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Alas! how deeply painful is all payment!
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The heart will break, but broken live on.
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He makes a solitude, and calls it - peace!
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What is Death, so it be but glorious? 'Tis a sunset And mortals may be happy to resemble The Gods but in decay.
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Sweet is old wine in bottles, ale in barrels.
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Between two worlds life hovers like a star, twixt night and morn, upon the horizon's verge.
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Men love in haste, but they detest at leisure.
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There is music in all things, if men had ears.
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Grieving, if aught inanimate e'er grieves, Over the unreturning brave.
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