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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
Young
Atheism
Think
Concern
Thinking
Strange
Philosophy
Twas
Brain
Assisted
Help
Puberty
Helping
Thus
Action
Sky
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Let us have wine and women, mirth and laughter, sermons and soda water the day after.
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I have great hopes that we shall love each other all our lives as much as if we had never married at all.
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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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Despair and Genius are too oft connected
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In hope to merit heaven by making earth a hell.
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Men love in haste, but they detest at leisure.
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Now I shall go to sleep. Goodnight.
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If I could always read, I should never feel the want of company.
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Then stirs the feeling infinite, so felt In solitude, where we are least alone.
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Oh that the desert were my dwelling-place, With one fair spirit for my minister
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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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The stars are forth, the moon above the tops Of the snow-shining mountains--beautiful! I linger yet with nature, for the night Hath been to me a more familiar face Than that of man, and in her starry shade Of dim and solitary loveliness I learned the language of another world.
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Tyranny Is far the worst of treasons. Dost thou deem None rebels except subjects? The prince who Neglects or violates his trust is more A brigand than the robber-chief.
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Oh Rome! My country! City of the soul!
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