Lord Byron Quotes
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Curiosity kills itself; and love is only curiosity, as is proved by its end.
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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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Heaven gives its favourites-early death.
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I am so changeable, being everything by turns and nothing long - such a strange melange of good and evil.
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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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What exile from himself can flee? To zones, though more and more remote, Still, still pursues, where'er I be, The blight of life--the demon Thought.
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Venice once was dear, The pleasant place of all festivity, The revel of the earth, the masque of Italy.
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Self-love for ever creeps out, like a snake, to sting anything which happens to stumble upon it.
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Tis pleasing to be school'd in a strange tongue By female lips and eyes--that is, I mean, When both the teacher and the taught are young, As was the case, at least, where I have been; They smile so when one's right; and when one's wrong They smile still more.
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Better to sink beneath the shockThan moulder piecemeal on the rock.
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The heart ran o'erWith silent worship of the great of old! The dead but sceptred sovereigns, who still ruleOur spirits from their urns.
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The simple Wordsworth . . . / Who, both by precept and example, shows / That prose is verse, and verse is merely prose.
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Oh, talk not to me of a name great in story;The days of our youth are the days of our glory;And the myrtle and ivy of sweet two-and-twentyAre worth all your laurels, though ever so plenty.
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Oh, God! it is a fearful thingTo see the human soul take wingIn any shape, in any mood.
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Romances paint at full length people's wooing. But only give a bust of marriages.
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Better to err with Pope, than shine with Pye.
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A sleep without dreams, after a rough day of toil, is what we covet most; and yet How clay shrinks back from more quiescent clay! The very Suicide that pays his debt at once without installments (an old way of paying debts, which creditors regret) Lets out impatiently his rushing breath, less from disgust of life than dread of death.
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As soon seek roses in December, ice in June, Hope constancy in wind, or corn in chaff Believe a woman or an epitaph Or any other thing that’s false Before you trust in critics.
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Where may the wearied eye repose When gazing on the Great; Where neither guilty glory glows, Nor despicable state? Yes - one - the first - the last - the best - The Cincinnatus of the West,Whom envy dared not hate,Bequeath'd the name of Washington,To make man blush there was but one!
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Marriage, from love, like vinegar from wine – A sad, sour sober beverage – by time Is sharpened from its high celestial flavor Down to a very homely household savor.
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Thy decay's still impregnate with divinity.
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And if we do but watch the hour, There never yet was human powerWhich could evade, if unforgiven, The patient search and vigil longOf him who treasures up a wrong.
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With thee all tales are sweet; each clime has charms; earth - sea alike - our world within our arms.
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Sorrow is knowledge, those that know the most must mourn the deepest, the tree of knowledge is not the tree of life.