Lord Byron Quotes
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You gave me the key to your heart, my love, then why did you make me knock?
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What want these outlaws conquerors should have but history's purchased page to call them great?
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To be perfectly original one should think much and read little, and this is impossible, for one must have read before one has learnt to think.
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I cannot describe to you the despairing sensation of trying to do something for a man who seems incapable or unwilling to do anything further for himself.
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There is a tear for all who die, A mourner o'er the humblest grave.
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A bargain is in its very essence a hostile transaction do not all men try to abate the price of all they buy? I contend that a bargain even between brethren is a declaration of war.
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We are all the fools of time and terror: Days Steal on us and steal from us; yet we live, Loathing our life, and dreading still to die.
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Now I shall go to sleep. Goodnight.
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You are the fools, not I - for I did dwell With a deep thought, and with a softened eye, On that Old Sexton's natural homily, In which there was Obscurity and Fame, The Glory and the Nothing of a Name.
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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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Romances I ne'er read like those I have seen.
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I really cannot know whether I am or am not the Genius you are pleased to call me, but I am very willing to put up with the mistake, if it be one.
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O Fame! if I ever took delight in thy praises, Twas less for the sake of thy high-sounding phrases, Than to see the bright eyes of the dear one discover The thought that I was not unworthy to love her.
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Brisk Confidence still best with woman copes: Pique her and soothe in turn-soon Passion crowns thy hopes.
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Tis pleasant purchasing our fellow-creatures; And all are to be sold, if you consider Their passions, and are dext'rous; some by features Are brought up, others by a warlike leader; Some by a place--as tend their years or natures; The most by ready cash--but all have prices, From crowns to kicks, according to their vices.
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On with the dance! let joy be unconfin'd No sleep till morn, when Youth and Pleasure meet To chase the Glowing Hours with Flying feet.
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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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My heart in passion, and my head on rhymes.
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Exhausting thought, And hiving wisdom with each studious year.
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Just as old age is creeping on space, And clouds come o'er the sunset of our day, They kindly leave us, though not quite alone, But in good company--the gout or stone.
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There is pleasure in the pathless woods.
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Though I love my country, I do not love my countrymen.
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Let us have wine and women, mirth and laughter, sermons and soda water the day after.
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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.