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… - Lord Byron

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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 learn'd the language of another world.

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About Lord Byron

George Gordon (Noel) Byron, 6th Baron Byron (January 22 1788 – April 19 1824), generally known as Lord Byron, was an English poet and leading figure in Romanticism. He was the father of the mathematician Ada Lovelace.

Biography information from Wikiquote

Also Known As

Birth Name: George Gordon Byron
Alternative Names: George Gordon Byron, 6th Baron Byron Noel Byron George Gordon Byron Lord George Gordon Byron, 6th Lord Byron
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Additional quotes by Lord Byron

MANFREDO
Porque não pude contrafazer a minha natureza... porque para mandar é
preciso obedecer... lisonjear... pedir... espreitar as ocasiões... intrometer-se em toda parte... ser uma mentira viva... é assim que deve proceder quem quer ser poderoso entre os seres abjetos de que se compõe a generalidade dos homens: eu, eu não me dignei de fazer parte de um rebanho de lobos... embora como chefe. O leão é só, e eu sou como o leão.

Think'st thou existence doth depend on time?
It doth; but actions are our epochs: mine
Have made my days and nights imperishable
Endless, and all alike, as sands on the shore
Innumerable atoms; and one desert
Barren and cold, on which the wild waves break,
But nothing rests, save carcases and wrecks,
Rocks, and the salt-surf weeds of bitterness.

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Pray tell me, can you make fast,
After due search, your faith to any question?
Look back o'er ages, ere unto the stake fast
You bind yourself, and call some mode the best one.
Nothing more true than not to trust your senses;
And yet what are your other evidences?

For me, I know nought; nothing I deny,
Admit, reject, contemn; and what know you,
Except perhaps that you were born to die?
And both may after all turn out untrue.
An age may come, Font of Eternity,
When nothing shall be either old or new.

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