Lord Byron Quotes
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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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For the Angel of Death spread his wings on the blast.
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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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The reading or non-reading a book will never keep down a single petticoat.
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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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I have not loved the World, nor the World me; I have not flattered its rank breath, nor bowed To its idolatries a patient knee, Nor coined my cheek to smiles,-nor cried aloud In worship of an echo.
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This sort of adoration of the real is but a heightening of the beau ideal.
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But 'midst the crowd, the hum, the shock of men, To hear, to see, to feel, and to possess, And roam along, the world's tired denizen, With none who bless us, none whom we can bless.
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A small drop of ink makes thousands, perhaps millions... think.
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Happiness was born a twin.
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The poor dog, in life the firmest friend,The first to welcome, foremost to defend.
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Like other parties of the kind, it was first silent, then talky, then argumentative, then disputatious, then unintelligible, then altogether, then inarticulate, and then drunk. When we had reached the last step of this glorious ladder, it was difficult to get down again without stumbling.
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There is music in all things, if men had ears.
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My native land, good night!
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As the liberty lads o'er the sea Bought their freedom, and cheaply, with blood, So we, boys, we Shall die fighting or live free, And down with all kings but King Ludd!
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I speak not of men's creeds—they rest between Man and his Maker.
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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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As falls the dew on quenchless sands, blood only serves to wash ambition's hands.
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To what gulfs A single deviation from the track Of human duties leads even those who claim The homage of mankind as their born due, And find it, till they forfeit it themselves!
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And wrinkles, the damned democrats, won't flatter.
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The premises are so delightfully extensive, that two people might live together without ever seeing, hearing or meeting.
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History, with all her volumes vast, Hath but one page.
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A timid mind is apt to mistake every scratch for a mortal wound.
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I stood among them, but not of them: in a shroud of thoughts which were not their thoughts.