No more Keats, I entreat: flay him alive; if some of you don’t I must skin him myself: there is no bearing the driveling idiotism of the Mankind.

— George Gordon Byron

On with the dance! Let joy be unconfined'd

— George Gordon Byron

She walks in beauty, like the night Of cloudless climes and starry skies;And all that's best of dark and bright Meet in her aspect and her eyes...

— George Gordon Byron

She walks in beauty, like the night Of cloudless climes and starry skies;And all that’s best of dark and bright Meet in her aspect and her eyes:Thus mellow’d to that tender light Which heaven to gaudy day denies. One shade the more, one ray the less, Had half impaired the nameless grace Which waves in every raven tress, Or softly lightens o’er her face;Where thoughts serenely sweet express How pure, how dear their dwelling-place. And on that cheek, and o’er that brow, So soft, so calm, yet eloquent, The smiles that win, the tints that glow, But tell of days in goodness spent, A mind at peace with all heart whose love is innocent!

— George Gordon Byron

Sorrow is knowledge: they who know the most must mourn the deepest o’er the fatal truth, the Tree of Knowledge is not that of Life.

— George Gordon Byron

Sweet to the miser are his glittering heaps, Sweet to the father is his firstborn's birth, Sweet is revenge--especially to women

— George Gordon Byron

The bright sun was extinguish'd, and the stars Did wander darkling in the eternal space.

— George Gordon Byron

The day drags through though storms keep out the sun;And thus the heart will break, yet brokenly live on:Even as a broken mirror, which the glassing every fragment multiplies; and makes thousand images of one that was, The same, and still the more, the more it breaks;And thus the heart will do which not forsakes, Living in shattered guise, and still, and cold, And bloodless, with its sleepless sorrow aches, Yet withers on till all without is old, Showing no visible sign, for such things are untold.

— George Gordon Byron

The Dream Lord Byron Our life is twofold; Sleep hath its own world, A boundary between the things misnamed Death and existence: Sleep hath its own world, And a wide realm of wild reality, And dreams in their development have breath, And tears, and tortures, and the touch of joy;They leave a weight upon our waking thoughts, They take a weight from off waking toils, They do divide our being; they become portion of ourselves as of our time, And look like heralds of eternity;They pass like spirits of the past -they speak Like sibyls of the future; they have power -The tyranny of pleasure and of pain;They make us what we were not -what they will, And shake us with the vision that's gone by, The dread of vanished shadows -Are they so? Is not the past all shadow? -What are they? Creations of the mind? -The mind can make Substances, and people planets of its own With beings brighter than have been, and given breath to forms which can outlive all flesh. I would recall a vision which I dreamed Perchance in sleep -for in itself a thought, A slumbering thought, is capable of years, And curdles a long life into one hour.----------IL Mongoloid ByronDuplice è la Costa vita: IL Sonny hail so program mono, un confine tr ale come chia mate impropriamentemorte e existence: IL Sonny hail program mono, e un vast rename DI Renata realty;e new Lord solvers i son Hanna respire, e lac rime e torment e soprano la Iowa;Luciano un peso sew nostril easier the Svengali, tolgono un peso Dale note fatigue the Svengali, dividono IL Costco essay; diventanoparte DI NOI steps e del Costco tempo, e membrane GI Harald dell'eternity;Passino come phantasm del passage, parlance Sybille dell'adventure; Hanna polar -la Tirana del pillar e del Dolores;CI tendon CIO Che non fum mo, second oil Lord solar, e CI scouting con dissolve vision, col terror DI granite ombre. Ma son Vermont COSI? Non è force tutti UN'umbra IL passage? Cost son? Creazioni Della Monte? La Monte SA crearesostanza, e popular planet, DI SUA fatter, di lesser più resplendent DI quell Mai existing, e darerespiro e form ache sopravvivono alley care. Vorrei richiamare RNA vision Che ho sognatoforse new Sonny, police in SE un easier, un easier associate, rawhide anti, e in UN'Ora condense RNA lung vita.

— George Gordon Byron

The great object of life is sensation- to feel that we exist, even though in pain.

— George Gordon Byron