Lord Byron Quotes
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Where the virgins are soft as the roses they twine,And all, save the spirit of man, is divine?
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Old man! ’tis not so difficult to die.
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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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Ecclesiastes said that "all is vanity," Most modern preachers say the same, or show it By their examples of true Christianity: In short, all know, or very short may know it.
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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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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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What deep wounds ever closed without a scar?
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Had sigh'd to many, though he loved but one.
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By Heaven! it is a splendid sight to see For one who hath no friend, no brother there.
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Of religion I know nothing -- at least, in its favor.
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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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Men love in haste, but they detest at leisure.
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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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From the mingled strength of shade and light A new creation rises to my sight, Such heav'nly figures from his pencil flow, So warm with light his blended colors glow. . . . . The glowing portraits, fresh from life, that bring Home to our hearts the truth from which they spring.
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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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Kill a man's family, and he may brook it, But keep your hands out of his breeches' pocket.
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In commitment, we dash the hopes of a thousand potential selves.
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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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It is when we think we lead that we are most led.
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Admire, exult, despise, laugh, weep for here There is such matter for all feelings: Man! Thou pendulum betwixt a smile and tear.
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Think you, if Laura had been Petrarch's wife, He would have written sonnets all his life?.
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Then, fare thee well, deceitful Maid!
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Ye stars! which are the poetry of heaven!
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I live,But live to die: and, living, see no thingTo make death hateful, save an innate clinging,A loathsome and yet all invincibleInstinct of life, which I abhor, as IDespise myself, yet cannot overcome-And so I live. Would I had never lived!