Lord Byron Quotes
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But words are things, and a small drop of ink, Falling like dew, upon a thought, produces That which makes thousands, perhaps millions, think.
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There is pleasure in the pathless woods.
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Oh, Amos Cottle! Phœbus! what a name!
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Switzerland is a curst, selfish, swinish country of brutes, placed in the most romantic region of the world.
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In itself a thought, a slumbering thought is capable of years; and curdles a long life into one hour.
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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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There is no traitor like him whose domestic treason plants the poniard within the breast that trusted to his truth.
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Yet in my lineaments they traceSome features of my father's face.
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Hark! to the hurried question of despair: 'Where is my child?'-an echo answers, 'Where?'
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Grief should be the instructor of the wise; Sorrow is Knowledge.
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Near this spotAre deposited the Remains of oneWho possessed Beauty without Vanity,Strength without Insolence,Courage without Ferocity,And all the virtues of Man, without his Vices.This Praise, which would be unmeaning FlatteryIf inscribed over human ashes,Is but a just tribute to the Memory ofBOATSWAIN, a DOG
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And thou wert lovely to the last,Extinguish'd, not decay'd;As stars that shoot along the skyShine brightest as they fall from high.
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Who hath not proved how feebly words essayTo fix one spark of beauty's heavenly ray? Who doth not feel, until his failing sightFaints into dimness with its own delight, His changing cheek, his sinking heart, confessThe might, the majesty of loveliness?
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Romances I ne'er read like those I have seen.
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A thirst for gold, The beggar's vice, which can but overwhelm The meanest hearts.
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And then he danced,-all foreigners excel the serious Angels in the eloquence of pantomime;-he danced, I say, right well, with emphasis, and a'so with good sense-a thing in footing indispensable: he danced without theatrical pretence, not like a ballet-master in the van of his drill'd nymphs, but like a gentleman.
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Oh! too convincing--dangerously dear-- In woman's eye the unanswerable tear! That weapon of her weakness she can wield, To save, subdue--at once her spear and shield.
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A drop of ink may make a million think.
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Romances paint at full length people's wooing. But only give a bust of marriages.
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Know ye not who would be free themselves must strike the blow? by their right arms the conquest must be wrought?
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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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Let not his mode of raising cash seem strange, Although he fleeced the flags of every nation, For into a prime minister but change His title, and 'tis nothing but taxation.
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What makes a regiment of soldiers a more noble object of view than the same mass of mob? Their arms, their dresses, their banners, and the art and artificial symmetry of their position and movements.
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O Fame! if I ever took delight in thy praises, Twas less for the sake of thy high-sounding phrases, Than to see the bright eyes of the dear one discover The thought that I was not unworthy to love her.