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I hate all pain, Given or received we have enough within us The meanest vassal as the loftiest monarch, Not to add to each other's natural burden Of mortal misery.

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
Misery
Monarch
Within
Meanest
Natural
Monarchs
Pain
Mortal
Hate
Received
Given
Mortals
Enough
Add
Vassal
Burden
Loftiest

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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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But mighty Nature bounds as from her birth The sun is in the heavens, and life on earth: Flowers in the valley, splendor in the beam, Health on the gale, and freshness in the stream.
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Oh Rome! My country! City of the soul!
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Then farewell, Horace whom I hated so, Not for thy faults, but mine.
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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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Many are poets, but without the nameFor what is Poesy but to createFrom overfeeling Good or Ill and aimAt an external life beyond our fate,And be the new Prometheus of new men,Bestowing fire from Heaven, and then, too late,Finding the pleasure given repaid with pain
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[Armenian] is a rich language, however, and would amply repay any one the trouble of learning it.
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Man is a carnivorous production, And must have meals, at least one meal a day He cannot live, like woodcocks, upon suction, But, like the shark and tiger, must have prey Although his anatomical construction Bears vegetables, in a grumbling way, Your laboring people think beyond all question, Beef, veal, and mutton better for digestion.
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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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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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Think'st thou existence doth depend on time? It doth but actions are our epochs.
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I stood among them, but not of them: in a shroud of thoughts which were not their thoughts.
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Grieving, if aught inanimate e'er grieves, Over the unreturning brave.
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We are all the fools of time and terror: Days Steal on us and steal from us yet we live, Loathing our life, and dreading still to die.
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Always laugh when you can. It is cheap medicine.
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And those who saw, it did surprise, Such drops could fall from human eyes.
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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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Ada! sole daughter of my house and heart.
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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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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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