Lord Byron Quotes
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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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He who grown aged in this world of woe, In deeds, not years, piercing the depths of life, So that no wonder waits him.
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That which I am, I am; I did not seekFor life, nor did I make myself.
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Christians have burnt each other, quite persuaded. That all the Apostles would have done as they did.
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Think'st thou existence doth depend on time?It doth; but actions are our epochs: mineHave made my days and nights imperishableEndless, and all alike, as sands on the shoreInnumerable atoms; and one desertBarren and cold, on which the wild waves break,But nothing rests, save carcases and wrecks,Rocks, and the salt-surf weeds of bitterness.
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This sort of adoration of the real is but a heightening of the beau ideal.
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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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The great art of life is sensation, to feel that we exist, even in pain.
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Yon Sun that sets upon the sea We follow in his flight; Farewell awhile to him and thee, My native land-Good Night!
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But every fool describes, in these bright days, His wondrous journey to some foreign court, And spawns his quarto, and demands your praise,-- Death to his publisher, to him 'tis sport.
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Happiness was born a twin.
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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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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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Those who will not reason, are bigots, those who cannot, are fools, and those who dare not, are slaves.
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Between two worlds life hovers like a star, twixt night and morn, upon the horizon's verge.
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When all of genius which can perish dies.
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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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I speak not of men's creeds—they rest between Man and his Maker.
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The Christian has greatly the advantage of the unbeliever, having everything to gain and nothing to lose.
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Roll on, deep and dark blue ocean, roll. Ten thousand fleets sweep over thee in vain. Man marks the earth with ruin, but his control stops with the shore.
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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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There's not a sea the passenger e'er pukes in, Turns up more dangerous breakers than the Euxine.
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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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Pythagoras, Locke, Socrates - but pages might be filled up, as vainly as before, with the sad usage of all sorts of sages, who in his life-time, each was deemed a bore! The loftiest minds outrun their tardy ages.