George Gordon Byron, 6th Baron Byron (22 January 1788 – 19 April 1824), commonly known simply as Lord Byron, was a British poet, peer, politician, and a leading figure in the Romantic movement. Among his best-known works are the lengthy narrative poems, Don Juan and Childe Harold's Pilgrimage, and the short lyric poem, "She Walks in Beauty".
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There is something to me very softening in the presence of a woman some strange influence even if one is not in love with them which I cannot at all account for having no very high opinion of the sex. But yet I always feel in better humor with myself and every thing else if there is a woman within ken.
It is not one man nor a million but the spirit of liberty that must be preserved. The waves which dash upon the shore are one by one broken but the ocean conquers nevertheless. It overwhelms the Armada it wears out the rock. In like manner whatever the struggle of individuals the great cause will gather strength.
It is by far the most elegant worship hardly excepting the Greek mythology. What with incense pictures statues altars shrines relics and the real presence confession absolution -- there is something sensible to grasp at. Besides it leaves no possibility of doubt, for those who swallow their Deity really and truly in transubstantiation can hardly find any thing else otherwise than easy of digestion.
I really cannot know whether I am or am not the Genius you are pleased to call me but I am very willing to put up with the mistake if it be one. It is a title dearly enough bought by most men to render it endurable even when not quite clearly made out which it never can be till the Posterity whose decisions are merely dreams to ourselves has sanctioned or denied it while it can touch us no further.
This place is the Devil or at least his principal residence they call it the University but any other appellation would have suited it much better for study is the last pursuit of the society, the Master eats drinks and sleeps the Fellows drink dispute and pun the employments of the undergraduates you will probably conjecture without my description.
It is singular how soon we lose the impression of what ceases to be constantly before us. A year impairs a luster obliterates. There is little distinct left without an effort of memory then indeed the lights are rekindled for a moment /but who can be sure that the Imagination is not the torch-bearer?
Are we aware of our obligations to a mob? It is the mob that labor in your fields and serve in your houses -- that man your navy and recruit your army -- that have enabled you to defy the world and can also defy you when neglect and calamity have driven them to despair. You may call the people a mob, but do not forget that a mob too often speaks the sentiments of the people.
I am so convinced of the advantages of looking at mankind instead of reading about them and of the bitter effects of staying at home with all the narrow prejudices of an Islander that I think there should be a law amongst us to set our young men abroad for a term among the few allies our wars have left us.