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Oh! too convincing--dangerously dear-- In woman's eye the unanswerable tear! That weapon of her weakness she can wield, To save, subdue--at once her spear and shield.
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
Eye
Convincing
Unanswerable
Woman
Tear
Spear
Weapon
Subdue
Dear
Wield
Weakness
Dangerously
Save
Spears
Weapons
Shield
Tears
Shields
More quotes by Lord Byron
I slept and dreamt that life was beauty I woke and found that life was duty.
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No ear can hear nor tongue can tell the tortures of the inward hell!
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The fact is that my wife if she had common sense would have more power over me than any other whatsoever, for my heart always alights upon the nearest perch.
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What is the worst of woes that wait on age? What stamps the wrinkle deeper on the brow? To view each loved one blotted from life's page, And be alone on earth, as I am now.
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This sort of adoration of the real is but a heightening of the beau ideal.
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One certainly has a soul but how it came to allow itself to be enclosed in a body is more than I can imagine.
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Oh, talk not to me of a name great in story The days of our youth are the days of our glory And the myrtle and ivy of sweet two-and-twenty Are worth all your laurels, though ever so plenty.
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I am never long, even in the society of her I love, without yearning for the company of my lamp and my library.
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Just as old age is creeping on space, And clouds come o'er the sunset of our day, They kindly leave us, though not quite alone, But in good company--the gout or stone.
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Then rose from sea to sky the wild farewell Then shriek'd the timid, and stood still the brave, Then some leap'd overboard with fearful yell, As eager to anticipate their grave.
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No words suffice the secret soul to show, For truth denies all eloquence to woe.
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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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Every day confirms my opinion on the superiority of a vicious life, and if Virtue is not its own reward, I don't know any other stipend annexed to it.
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Pure friendship's well-feigned blush.
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Few things surpass old wine and they may preach Who please, the more because they preach in vain
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She walks in beauty, like the night Of cloudless climes and starry skies And all that's best of dark and bright Meet in her aspect and her eyes.
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In solitude, when we are least alone.
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I should be very willing to redress men wrongs, and rather check than punish crimes, had not Cervantes, in that all too true tale of Quixote, shown how all such efforts fail.
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I doubt sometimes whether a quiet and unagitated life would have suited me - yet I sometimes long for it.
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Since Eve ate the apple, much depends on dinner.
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