Lord Byron Quotes
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The waves were dead; the tides were in their grave, The moon, their mistress, had expir'd before; The winds were wither'd in the stagnant air, And the clouds perish'd; Darkness had no need Of aid from them-She was the Universe.
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And if I laugh at any mortal thing, 'Tis that I may not weep.
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Friendship is Love without his wings!
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Adversity is the first path to truth.
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Eat, drink and love...the rest is not worth a nickel.
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Letter writing is the only device combining solitude with good company.
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So do the dark in soul expire, Or live like scorpion girt by fire; So writhes the mind remorse hath riven, Unfit for earth, undoom'd for heaven, Darkness above, despair beneath, Around it flame, within it death.
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The dust we tread upon was once alive.
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Such is your cold coquette, who can't say "No," And won't say "Yes," and keeps you on and off-ing On a lee-shore, till it begins to blow, Then sees your heart wreck'd, with an inward scoffing.
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There was a sound of revelry by night, And Belgium's capital had gathered then Her beauty and her chivalry, and bright The lamps shone o'er fair women and brave men. A thousand hearts beat happily; and when Music arose with its voluptuous swell, Soft eyes looked love to eyes which spake again, And all went merry as a marriage bell. But hush! hark! a deep sound strikes like a rising knell!
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It is the lava of the imagination whose eruption prevents an earthquake.
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Knowledge is not happiness, and science But an exchange of ignorance for that Which is another kind of ignorance.
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There's music in the sighing of a reed; There's music in the gushing of a rill; There's music in all things, if men had ears; The earth is but the music of the spheres.
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My days are in the yellow leaf;The flowers and fruits of Love are gone;The worm - the canker, and the griefAre mine alone!
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Know ye the land where the cypress and myrtleAre emblems of deeds that are done in their clime?Where the rage of the vulture, the love of the turtle,Now melt into sorrow, now madden to crime!
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What deep wounds ever closed without a scar? The hearts bleed longest, and heals but to wear That which disfigures it.
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The great object of life is Sensation - to feel that we exist - even though in pain - it is this "craving void" which drives us to gaming - to battle - to travel - to intemperate but keenly felt pursuits of every description whose principal attraction is the agitation inseparable from their accomplishment.
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Sorrow is knowledge: they who know the mostMust mourn the deepest o’er the fatal truth,The Tree of Knowledge is not that of Life.
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Self praise is no praise at all.
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And they were canopied by the blue sky, So cloudless, clear, and purely beautifulThat God alone was to be seen in heaven.
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In secret we metIn silence I grieve,That thy heart could forget,Thy spirit deceive.If I should meet theeAfter long years,How should I greet thee?With silence and tears.
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Who killed John Keats?'I,' says the Quarterly,So savage and Tartarly;''Twas one of my feats.'
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I would rather have a nod from an American, than a snuff- box from an emperor.
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No hand can make the clock strike for me the hours that are passed.