Lord Byron Quotes
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Men think highly of those who rise rapidly in the world; whereas nothing rises quicker than dust, straw, and feathers.
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This quiet sail is as a noiseless wing To waft me from distraction.
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Hatred is the madness of the heart.
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I'll publish right or wrong:Fools are my theme, let satire be my song.
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And dreams in their development have breath, And tears, and tortures, and the touch of joy; They have a weight upon our waking thoughts, They take a weight from off our waking toils, They do divide our being.
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I doubt sometimes whether a quiet and unagitated life would have suited me - yet I sometimes long for it.
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Yet he was jealous, though he did not show it, For jealousy dislikes the world to know it.
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'Twas thine own genius gave the final blow,And help'd to plant the wound that laid thee low:So the struck eagle, stretch'd upon the plain,No more through rolling clouds to soar again,View'd his own feather on the fatal dart,And wing'd the shaft that quiver'd in his heart.
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Man is in part divine, A troubled stream from a pure source.
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I cannot help thinking that the menace of Hell makes as many devils as the severe penal codes of inhuman humanity make villains.
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Yet smelt roast meat, beheld a huge fire shine, And cooks in motion with their clean arms bared.
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For through the South the custom still commands The gentleman to kiss the lady's hands.
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Come what may, I have been blest.
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So the struck eagle, stretch'd upon the plain, No more through rolling clouds to soar again, View'd his own feather on the fatal dart, And wing'd the shaft that quiver'd in his heart.
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So, we'll go no more a rovingSo late into the night,Though the heart be still as loving,And the moon be still as bright.
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There is pleasure in the pathless woods, there is rapture in the lonely shore, there is society where none intrudes, by the deep sea, and music in its roar; I love not Man the less, but Nature more.
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Man, being reasonable, must get drunk; the best of life is but intoxication.
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Though I love my country, I do not love my countrymen.
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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.
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Whate'erI may have been, or am, doth rest betweenHeaven and myself; I shall not choose a mortalTo be my mediator.
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Maidens, like moths, are ever caught, by glare, And Mammon wins his way where seraphs might despair.
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And lovelier things have mercy shownTo every failing but their own,And every woe a tear can claimExcept an erring sister's shame.
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Then stirs the feeling infinite, so felt In solitude, where we are least alone.
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When all of genius which can perish dies.