Lord Byron Quotes
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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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A rose with all its sweetest leaves yet folded.
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And wrinkles, the damned democrats, won't flatter.
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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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My native land, good night!
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With just enough of learning to misquote.
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I shall soon be six-and-twenty. Is there anything in the future that can possibly console us for not being always twenty-five?
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Kill a man's family, and he may brook it, But keep your hands out of his breeches' pocket.
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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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The cold, the changed, perchance the dead, anew, The mourn'd, the loved, the lost,-too many, yet how few!
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Come what may, I have been blest.
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Then, fare thee well, deceitful Maid!
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Mark! where his carnage and his conquests cease!He makes a solitude, and calls it - peace!
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Who track the steps of glory to the grave.
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All who joy would win must share it. Happiness was born a Twin.
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She walks the waters like a thing of life,And seems to dare the elements to strife.
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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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I live not in myself, but I become Portion of that around me: and to me High mountains are a feeling, but the hum of human cities torture.
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Accursed be the city where the laws would stifle nature's!
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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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This place is the Devil, or at least his principal residence, they call it the University, but any other appellation would have suited it much better, for study is the last pursuit of the society; the Master eats, drinks, and sleeps, the Fellows drink, dispute and pun, the employments of the undergraduates you will probably conjecture without my description.
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No more we meet in yonder bowers Absence has made me prone to roving; But older, firmer hearts than ours, Have found monotony in loving.
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It is odd but agitation or contest of any kind gives a rebound to my spirits and sets me up for a time.
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I am the very slave of circumstance And impulse - borne away with every breath! Misplaced upon the throne - misplaced in life. I know not what I could have been, but feel I am not what I should be - let it end.