Quote

Twas twilight, and the sunless day went down Over the waste of waters like a veil, Which, if withdrawn, would but disclose the frown Of one whose hate is mask'd but to assail.

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
Waters
Sunless
Would
Twilight
Assail
Like
Mask
Twas
Waste
Disclose
Whose
Frown
Withdrawn
Went
Veil
Water
Veils
Hate

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Of religion I know nothing -- at least, in its favor.
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Grief is fantastical, and loves the dead, And the apparel of the grave.
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Religion-freedom-vengeance-what you will, A word's enough to raise mankind to kill.
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The truly brave are soft of heart and eyes, and feel for what their duty bids them do.
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Yes, love indeed is light from heaven A spark of that immortal fire with angels shared, by Allah given to lift from earth our low desire.
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Grieving, if aught inanimate e'er grieves, Over the unreturning brave.
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I die but first I have possessed, And come what may, I have been blessed.
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The premises are so delightfully extensive, that two people might live together without ever seeing, hearing or meeting.
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There is something to me very softening in the presence of a woman, some strange influence, even if one is not in love with them, which I cannot at all account for, having no very high opinion of the sex. But yet, I always feel in better humor with myself and every thing else, if there is a woman within ken.
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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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It is the lava of the imagination whose eruption prevents an earthquake.
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Parting day Dies like the dolphin, whom each pang imbues With a new colour as it gasps away, The last still loveliest, till-'t is gone, and all is gray.
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Oh who can tell, save he whose heart hath tried.
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He learned the arts of riding, fencing, gunnery, And how to scale a fortress - or a nunnery.
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Like to the apples on the Dead Sea's shore, All ashes to the taste.
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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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And I would hear yet once before I perish The voice which was my music... Speak to me!
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The Niobe of nations! there she stands.
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Still from the fount of joy's delicious springs Some bitter o'er the flowers its bubbling venom flings.
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'Tis sweet to know there is an eye will mark our coming, and look brighter when we come.
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