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The world is a bundle of hay, Mankind are the asses that pull, Each tugs in a different way And the greatest of all is John Bull!
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
John
Hay
Mankind
Asses
Greatest
Bundle
Different
Bundles
Way
Bull
World
Bulls
Ass
Pull
Tugs
More quotes by Lord Byron
Truth is a gem that is found at a great depth whilst on the surface of the world all things are weighed by the false scale of custom.
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Knowledge is not happiness, and science But an exchange of ignorance for that Which is another kind of ignorance.
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If I could always read, I should never feel the want of company.
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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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Friendship may, and often does, grow into love, but love never subsides into friendship.
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The place is very well and quiet and the children only scream in a low voice.
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Fools are my theme, let satire be my song.
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Religion-freedom-vengeance-what you will, A word's enough to raise mankind to kill.
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If I don't write to empty my mind, I go mad. As to that regular, uninterrupted love of writing. I do not understand it. I feel it as a torture, which I must get rid of, but never as a pleasure. On the contrary, I think composition a great pain.
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I slept and dreamt that life was beauty I woke and found that life was duty.
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I am the very slave of circumstance And impulse borne away with every breath! Misplaced upon the throne misplaced in life. I know not what I could have been, but feel I am not what I should be let it end.
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I suppose we shall soon travel by air-vessels make air instead of sea voyages and at length find our way to the moon, in spite of the want of atmosphere.
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I speak not of men's creeds—they rest between Man and his Maker.
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The keenest pangs the wretched find Are rapture to the dreary void, The leafless desert of the mind, The waste of feelings unemployed.
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Which cheers the sad, revives the old, inspires The young, makes Weariness forget his toil, And Fear her danger opens a new world When this, the present, palls.
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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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I have no consistency, except in politics and that probably arises from my indifference to the subject altogether.
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Above or Love, Hope, Hate or Fear, It lives all passionless and pure: An age shall fleet like earthly year Its years in moments shall endure. Away, away, without a wing, O'er all, through all, its thought shall fly A nameless and eternal thing, Forgetting what it was to die.
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Yet smelt roast meat, beheld a huge fire shine, And cooks in motion with their clean arms bared.
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May Moorland weavers boast Pindaric skill, And tailors' lays be longer than their bill! While punctual beaux reward the grateful notes, And pay for poems--when they pay for coats.
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