Lord Byron Quotes
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This sort of adoration of the real is but a heightening of the beau ideal.
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For a man to become a poet (witness Petrarch and Dante), he must be in love, or miserable.
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History, with all her volumes vast, Hath but one page.
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With just enough of learning to misquote.
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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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Ancient of days! august Athena! where, Where are thy men of might? thy grand in soul? Gone--glimmering through the dream of things that were; First in the race that led to glory's goal, They won, and pass'd away--Is this the whole?
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'Tis sweet to know there is an eye will mark our coming, and look brighter when we come.
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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 no traitor like him whose domestic treason plants the poniard within the breast that trusted to his truth.
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Oh, for a forty-parson power to chant Thy praise, Hypocrisy! Oh, for a hymn Loud as the virtues thou dost loudly vaunt, Not practise!
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A small drop of ink makes thousands, perhaps millions... think.
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I do not believe in any religion, I will have nothing to do with immortality. We are miserable enough in this life without speculating upon another.
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I hate all pain, Given or received; we have enough within us The meanest vassal as the loftiest monarch, Not to add to each other's natural burden Of mortal misery.
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Most glorious night! Thou wert not sent for slumber!
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Seek out - less often sought than found -A Soldier's Grave, for thee the best;Then look around and choose thy Ground,And take thy Rest.
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The world is a bundle of hay,Mankind are the asses that pull,Each tugs in a different way-And the greatest of all is John Bull!
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I depart, Whither I know not; but the hour's gone by When Albion's lessening shores could grieve or glad mine eye.
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All human history attests That happiness for man, - the hungry sinner! - Since Eve ate apples, much depends on dinner.
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A thirst for gold, The beggar's vice, which can but overwhelm The meanest hearts.
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Socrates said, our only knowledge was "To know that nothing could be known;" a pleasant Science enough, which levels to an ass Each Man of Wisdom, future, past, or present. Newton, (that Proverb of the Mind,) alas! Declared, with all his grand discoveries recent, That he himself felt only "like a youth Picking up shells by the great Ocean-Truth."