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Think you, if Laura had been Petrarch's wife, He would have written sonnets all his life?.

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
Wife
Written
Would
Think
Thinking
Life
Sonnets
Laura
Sonnet

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Such is your cold coquette, who can't say No, And won't say Yes, and keeps you on and off-ing On a lee-shore, till it begins to blow, Then sees your heart wreck'd, with an inward scoffing.
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Fame is the thirst of youth.
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This sort of adoration of the real is but a heightening of the beau ideal.
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Keep thy smooth words and juggling homilies for those who know thee not.
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To chase the glowing hours with flying feet.
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The French courage proceeds from vanity
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Roll on, deep and dark blue ocean, roll. Ten thousand fleets sweep over thee in vain. Man marks the earth with ruin, but his control stops with the shore.
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He who grown aged in this world of woe, In deeds, not years, piercing the depths of life, So that no wonder waits him.
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This is to be mortal, And seek the things beyond mortality.
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The bright sun was extinguish'd, and the stars Did wander darkling in the eternal space.
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Admire, exult, despise, laugh, weep for here There is such matter for all feelings: Man! Thou pendulum betwixt a smile and tear.
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The Coach does not play in the game, but the Coach helps the players identify areas to improve their game.
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Sweet is revenge-especially to women.
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Why I came here, I know not where I shall go it is useless to inquire - in the midst of myriads of the living and the dead worlds, stars, systems, infinity, why should I be anxious about an atom?
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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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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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Sometimes we are less unhappy in being deceived by those we love, than in being undeceived by them.
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The light of love, the purity of grace, The mind, the Music breathing from her face, The heart whose softness harmonised the whole — And, oh! that eye was in itself a Soul!
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Bread has been made (indifferent) from potatoes And galvanism has set some corpses grinning, But has not answer'd like the apparatus Of the Humane Society's beginning, By which men are unsuffocated gratis: What wondrous new machines have late been spinning.
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This is the patent age of new inventions for killing bodies, and for saving souls. All propagated with the best intentions.
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