Lord Byron Quotes
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My turn of mind is so given to taking things in the absurd point of view, that it breaks out in spite of me every now and then.
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Such hath it been - shall be - beneath the sunThe many still must labour for the one!
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Alas! how deeply painful is all payment!
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Go let thy less than woman's hand Assume the distaff not the brand.
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Perhaps the early grave Which men weep over may be meant to save.
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Oh, Christ! it is a goodly sight to see What Heaven hath done for this delicious land!
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It is not one man nor a million, but the spirit of liberty that must be preserved. The waves which dash upon the shore are, one by one, broken, but the ocean conquers nevertheless. It overwhelms the Armada, it wears out the rock. In like manner, whatever the struggle of individuals, the great cause will gather strength.
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Never to talk to ones self is a form of hypocrisy.
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I have great hopes that we shall love each other all our lives as much as if we had never married at all.
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If I could always read, I should never feel the want of company.
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They truly mourn, that mourn without a witness.
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Where are the forms the sculptor's soul hath seized? In him alone, Can nature show as fair?
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War, war is still the cry,-"war even to the knife!"
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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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The power of thought,-the magic of the mind!
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Jealousy dislikes the world to know it.
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My slumbers--if I slumber--are not sleep, But a continuance of enduring thought, Which then I can resist not: in my heart There is a vigil, and these eyes but close To look within; and yet I live, and bear The aspect and the form of breathing men.
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Out of chaos God made a world, and out of high passions comes a people.
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Do proper homage to thine idol's eyes; But no too humbly, or she will despise Thee and thy suit, though told in moving tropes: Disguise even tenderness if thou art wise.
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...And these vicissitudes come best in youth; For when they happen at a riper age, People are apt to blame the Fates, forsooth, And wonder Providence is not more sage. Adversity is the first path to truth: He who hath proved war, storm, or woman's rage, Whether his winters be eighteen or eighty, Has won experience which is deem'd so weighty.
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My boat is on the shore, And my bark is on the sea.
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Gone, glimmering through the dream of things that were.
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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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But quiet to quick bosoms is a hell.