Lord Byron Quotes
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Know ye the land where the cypress and myrtleAre emblems of deeds that are done in their clime?Where the rage of the vulture, the love of the turtle,Now melt into sorrow, now madden to crime!
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I think the worst woman that ever existed would have made a man of very passable reputation -- they are all better than us and their faults such as they are must originate with ourselves.
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Hands promiscuously applied,Round the slight waist, or down the glowing side.
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I had a dream, which was not all a dream.
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I have had, and may have still, a thousand friends, as they are called, in life, who are like one's partners in the waltz of this world -not much remembered when the ball is over.
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I only know we loved in vain;I only feel - farewell! farewell!
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A woman being never at a loss... the devil always sticks by them.
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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 everything 'about, around, and underneath' man, except man himself, who has always been and always will be, an unlucky rascal. The infinite variety of lives conduct but to death, and the infinity of wishes lead but to disappointment. All the discoveries which have yet been made have multiplied little but existence.
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It is the hour when from the boughs The nightingale's high note is heard;It is the hour when lovers' vows Seem sweet in every whisper'd word.
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I am surrounded here by parsons and methodists, but as you will see, not infested with the mania.
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Egypt! from whose all dateless tombs arose Forgotten Pharaohs from their long repose, And shook within their pyramids to hear A new Cambyses thundering in their ear; While the dark shades of forty ages stood Like startled giants by Nile's famous flood.
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Who then will explain the explanation?
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A mighty mass of brick, and smoke, and shipping, Dirty and dusty, but as wide as eye Could reach, with here and there a sail just skipping In sight, then lost amidst the forestry Of masts; a wilderness of steeples peeping On tiptoe through their sea-coal canopy; A huge, dun cupola, like a fools-cap crown On a fool's head - and there is London Town.
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Man's conscience is the oracle of God.
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And gentle winds and waters near, make music to the lonely ear.
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The stars are forth, the moon above the tops Of the snow-shining mountains--beautiful! I linger yet with nature, for the night Hath been to me a more familiar face Than that of man, and in her starry shade Of dim and solitary loveliness I learned the language of another world.
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A little still she strove, and much repented, And whispering “I will ne'er consent”—consented.
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This man is freed from servile bands, Of hope to rise, or fear to fall; Lord of himself, though not of lands, And leaving nothing, yet hath all.
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And if we do but watch the hour, There never yet was human powerWhich could evade, if unforgiven, The patient search and vigil longOf him who treasures up a wrong.
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I die - but first I have possessed,And come what may, I have been blessed.
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The blind old man of Scio's rocky isle.
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She walks in beauty, like the nightOf cloudless climes and starry skies;And all that's best of dark and brightMeet in her aspect and her eyes:Thus mellow'd to that tender lightWhich heaven to gaudy day denies.
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Where is he, the champion and the childOf all that's great or little, wise or wild;Whose game was empires, and whose stakes were thrones;Whose table earth - whose dice were human bones?
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Once more upon the waters! yet once more! And the waves bound beneath me as a steed That knows his rider.