Lord Byron Quotes
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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 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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The dew of compassion is a tear.
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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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In itself a thought, a slumbering thought is capable of years; and curdles a long life into one hour.
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History, with all her volumes vast, Hath but one page.
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The reason that adulation is not displeasing is that, though untrue, it shows one to be of consequence enough, in one way or other, to induce people to lie.
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Eternity forbids thee to forget.
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If a man proves too clearly and convincingly to himself...that a tiger is an optical illusion--well, he will find out he is wrong. The tiger will himself intervene in the discussion, in a manner which will be in every sense conclusive.
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All who joy would win must share it. Happiness was born a Twin.
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Sweet is old wine in bottles, ale in barrels.
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But stories somehow lengthen when begun.
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And Mocha's berry, from Arabia pure, In small fine china cups, came in at last. Gold cups of filigree, made to secure the hand from burning, underneath them place. Cloves, cinnamon and saffron, too, were boiled Up with the coffee, which, I think, they spoiled.
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Dreading that climax of all human ills the inflammation of his weekly bills.
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A thirst for gold, The beggar's vice, which can but overwhelm The meanest hearts.
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In England the only homage which they pay to Virtue - is hypocrisy.
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Then, fare thee well, deceitful Maid!
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I cannot conceive why people will always mix up my own character and opinions with those of the imaginary beings which, as a poet, I have the right and liberty to draw.
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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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It is when we think we lead that we are most led.
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Years steal fire from the mind as vigor from the limb; and life's enchanted cup but sparkles near the brim.
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With flowing tail and flying mane, Wide nostrils never stretched by pain, Mouth bloodless to bit or rein, And feet that iron never shod, And flanks unscar'd by spur or rod, A thousand horses - the wild - the free - Like waves that follow o'er the sea, Came thickly thundering on.
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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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Still from the fount of joy's delicious springs Some bitter o'er the flowers its bubbling venom flings.