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As soonSeek roses in December, ice in June;Hope constancy in wind, or corn in chaff;Believe a woman or an epitaph,Or any other thing that's false, beforeYou trust in critics, who themselves are sore.
Lord Byron -
My boat is on the shore,And my bark is on the sea;But, before I go, Tom Moore.Here's a double health to thee!
Lord Byron
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The blind old man of Scio's rocky isle.
Lord Byron -
Then farewell, Horace; whom I hated so, Not for thy faults, but mine.
Lord Byron -
Be thou the rainbow in the storms of life. The evening beam that smiles the clouds away, and tints tomorrow with prophetic ray.
Lord Byron -
I'll publish right or wrong:Fools are my theme, let satire be my song.
Lord Byron -
The bright sun was extinguish'd, and the stars Did wander darkling in the eternal space.
Lord Byron -
Let us have wine and woman, mirth and laughter, Sermons and soda water the day after. Man, being reasonable, must get drunk; The best of life is but intoxication: Glory, the grape, love, gold, in these are sunk The hopes of all men, and of every nation; Without their sap, how branchless were the trunk Of life's strange tree, so fruitful on occasion: But to return--Get very drunk; and when You wake with head-ache, you shall see what then.
Lord Byron
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What an antithetical mind! - tenderness, roughness - delicacy, coarseness - sentiment, sensuality - soaring and groveling, dirt and deity - all mixed up in that one compound of inspired clay!
Lord Byron -
Were't the last drop in the well,As I gasp'd upon the brink,Ere my fainting spirit fell'T is to thee that I would drink.
Lord Byron -
There was a laughing devil in his sneer.
Lord Byron -
When Bishop Berkeley said "there was no matter." And proved it--'t was no matter what he said.
Lord Byron -
Folly loves the martyrdom of fame.
Lord Byron -
Though the day of my Destiny's over,And the star of my Fate hath declined,Thy soft heart refused to discoverThe faults which so many could find.
Lord Byron
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Perverts the Prophets and purloins the Psalms.
Lord Byron -
I can't but say it is an awkward sight To see one's native land receding through The growing waters; it unmans one quite, Especially when life is rather new.
Lord Byron -
The careful pilot of my proper woe.
Lord Byron -
Soprano, basso, even the contra-alto, Wished him five fathom under the Rialto.
Lord Byron -
But 'why then publish?' There are no rewards Of fame or profit when the world grows weary. I ask in turn why do you play at cards? Why drink? Why read? To make some hour less dreary. It occupies me to turn back regards On what I've seen or pondered, sad or cheery, And what I write I cast upon the stream To swim or sink. I have had at least my dream.
Lord Byron -
She walks in beauty, like the nightOf cloudless climes and starry skies;And all that's best of dark and brightMeet in her aspect and her eyes:Thus mellow'd to that tender lightWhich heaven to gaudy day denies.
Lord Byron
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His heart was one of those which most enamour us,Wax to receive, and marble to retain:He was a lover of the good old school,Who still become more constant as they cool.
Lord Byron -
Oh! if thou hast at length Discover'd that my love is worth esteem, I ask no more-but let us hence together, And I - let me say we - shall yet be happy. Assyria is not all the earth-we'll find A world out of our own - and be more bless'd Than I have ever been, or thou, with all An empire to indulge thee.
Lord Byron -
Next to dressing for a rout or ball, undressing is a woe.
Lord Byron -
Heart on her lips, and soul within her eyes, Soft as her clime, and sunny as her skies.
Lord Byron