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No words suffice the secret soul to show, For truth denies all eloquence to woe.

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
Secret
Show
Words
Shows
Suffice
Truth
Denies
Soul
Woe
Eloquence
Deny

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So sweet the blush of bashfulness, E'en pity scarce can wish it less!
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The art of angling, the cruelest, the coldest and the stupidest of pretended sports.
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Friendship may, and often does, grow into love, but love never subsides into friendship.
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With thee all tales are sweet each clime has charms earth - sea alike - our world within our arms.
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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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All human history attests That happiness for man, - the hungry sinner! - Since Eve ate apples, much depends on dinner. ~Lord Byron, Don Juan, Canto XIII, stanza 99
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Think you, if Laura had been Petrarch's wife, He would have written sonnets all his life?.
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And what is writ is writ - / Would it were worthier!
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Divine in hookas, glorious in a pipe When tipp'd with amber, mellow, rich, and ripe... Yet thy true lovers more admire by far Thy naked beauties - give me a cigar!
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Then stirs the feeling infinite, so felt In solitude, where we are least alone.
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Kill a man's family, and he may brook it, But keep your hands out of his breeches' pocket.
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Grieving, if aught inanimate e'er grieves, Over the unreturning brave.
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The poetry of speech.
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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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I cannot help thinking that the menace of Hell makes as many devils as the severe penal codes of inhuman humanity make villains.
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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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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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Few things surpass old wine and they may preach Who please, the more because they preach in vain
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Oh who can tell, save he whose heart hath tried.
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The great object of life is Sensation - to feel that we exist - even though in pain - it is this craving void which drives us to gaming - to battle - to travel - to intemperate but keenly felt pursuits of every description whose principal attraction is the agitation inseparable from their accomplishment.
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