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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.

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
Helping
Thus
Action
Sky
Young
Atheism
Think
Concern
Thinking
Strange
Philosophy
Twas
Brain
Assisted
Help
Puberty

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For truth is always strange stranger than fiction.
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And then he danced,-all foreigners excel the serious Angels in the eloquence of pantomime-he danced, I say, right well, with emphasis, and a'so with good sense-a thing in footing indispensable: he danced without theatrical pretence, not like a ballet-master in the van of his drill'd nymphs, but like a gentleman.
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My turn of mind is so given to taking things in the absurd point of view, that it breaks out in spite of me every now and then.
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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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Then farewell, Horace whom I hated so, Not for thy faults, but mine.
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Death, so called, is a thing which makes men weep, And yet a third of life is passed in sleep.
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He makes a solitude, and calls it - peace!
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My altars are the mountains and the ocean.
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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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Think you, if Laura had been Petrarch's wife, He would have written sonnets all his life?.
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Ada! sole daughter of my house and heart.
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Fills The air around with beauty.
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It is when we think we lead that we are most led.
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A timid mind is apt to mistake every scratch for a mortal wound.
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A change came o'er the spirit of my dream.
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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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Think'st thou there is no tyranny but that Of blood and chains? The despotism of vice-- The weakness and the wickedness of luxury-- The negligence--the apathy--the evils Of sensual sloth--produces ten thousand tyrants, Whose delegated cruelty surpasses The worst acts of one energetic master, However harsh and hard in his own bearing.
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A thirst for gold, The beggar's vice, which can but overwhelm The meanest hearts.
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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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And Doubt and Discord step 'twixt thine and thee.
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