Lord Byron Quotes
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A small drop of ink makes thousands, perhaps millions... think.
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Nothing so fretful, so despicable as a Scribbler, see what I am, and what a parcel of Scoundrels I have brought about my ears, and what language I have been obliged to treat them with to deal with them in their own way; - all this comes of Authorship.
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It is when we think we lead that we are most led.
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The lapse of ages changes all things - time, language, the earth, the bounds of the sea, the stars of the sky, and every thing about, around, and underneath man, except man himself.
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Sorrow preys upon Its solitude, and nothing more diverts it From its sad visions of the other world Than calling it at moments back to this. The busy have no time for tears.
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The light of love, the purity of grace, The mind, the Music breathing from her face, The heart whose softness harmonised the whole — And, oh! that eye was in itself a Soul!
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I know that two and two make four - and should be glad to prove it too if I could - though I must say if by any sort of process I could convert 2 and 2 into five it would give me much greater pleasure.
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Where there is mystery, it is generally suspected there must also be evil.
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Father of Light! great God of Heaven! Hear'st thou the accents of despair? Can guilt like man's be e'er forgiven? Can vice atone for crimes by prayer.
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You have to have a passion for your work. How can we expect people to be passionate if you, as their coach, does not have a passion? Coaching has to be something that gives you passion and energy.
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Books, Manuals, Directives, Regulations. The geometries that circumscribe your working life draw norrower and norrower until nothing fits inside them anymore.
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Switzerland is a curst, selfish, swinish country of brutes, placed in the most romantic region of the world.
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The great art of life is sensation, to feel that we exist, even in pain.
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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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Fare thee well, and if for ever Still for ever fare thee well.
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The power of thought,-the magic of the mind!
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Earth! render back from out thy breast A remnant of our Spartan dead! Of the three hundred grant but three, To make a new Thermopylæ!
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Eternity forbids thee to forget.
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America is a model of force and freedom and moderation - with all the coarseness and rudeness of its people.
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They say that Hope is happiness But genuine Love must prize the past; And Mem'ry wakes the thoughts that bless: They rose first – they set the last. And all that mem'ry loves the most Was once our only hope to be: And all that hope adored and lost Hath melted into memory. Alas! It is delusion all – The future cheats us from afar: Nor can we be what we recall, Nor dare we think on what we are.
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Religion-freedom-vengeance-what you will, A word's enough to raise mankind to kill.
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But quiet to quick bosoms is a hell.
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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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Poetry should only occupy the idle.