Lord Byron Quotes
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And then he danced,-all foreigners excel the serious Angels in the eloquence of pantomime;-he danced, I say, right well, with emphasis, and a'so with good sense-a thing in footing indispensable: he danced without theatrical pretence, not like a ballet-master in the van of his drill'd nymphs, but like a gentleman.
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Old man! ’tis not so difficult to die.
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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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How my soul hates This language, Which makes life itself a lie,Flattering dust with eternity.
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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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How sweet and soothing is this hour of calm! I thank thee, night! for thou has chased away these horrid bodements which, amidst the throng, I could not dissipate; and with the blessing of thy benign and quiet influence now will I to my couch, although to rest is almost wronging such a night as this.
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There is no such thing as a life of passion any more than a continuous earthquake, or an eternal fever. Besides, who would ever shave themselves in such a state?
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If we must have a tyrant, let him at least be a gentleman who has been bred to the business, and let us fall by the axe and not by the butcher's cleaver.
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There is music in all things, if men had ears.
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As winds come whispering lightly from the West, Kissing, not ruffling, the blue deep's serene.
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There is pleasure in the pathless woods.
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Italia! O Italia! thou who hast The fatal gift of beauty.
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The keenest pangs the wretched find Are rapture to the dreary void, The leafless desert of the mind, The waste of feelings unemployed.
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Few things surpass old wine; and they may preach Who please, the more because they preach in vain.
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Near this spot are deposited the remains of one who possessed beauty without vanity, strength without insolence, courage without ferocity, and all the virtues of man, without his vices. This praise, which would be unmeaning flattery if inscribed over human ashes, is but a just tribute to the memory of Botswain, a dog.
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My native land, good night!
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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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Tyranny Is far the worst of treasons. Dost thou deem None rebels except subjects? The prince who Neglects or violates his trust is more A brigand than the robber-chief.
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O Gold! I still prefer thee unto paper, which makes bank credit like a bark of vapour.
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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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Though the night was made for loving,And the day returns too soon,Yet we'll go no more a rovingBy the light of the moon.
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A timid mind is apt to mistake every scratch for a mortal wound.
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Like to the apples on the Dead Sea's shore, All ashes to the taste.
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Still from the fount of joy's delicious springs Some bitter o'er the flowers its bubbling venom flings.