Lord Byron Quotes
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A man must serve his time to every trade, Save censure-critics all are ready made. Take hackney'd jokes from Miller, got by rote With just enough learning to misquote.
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Though the day of my Destiny's over,And the star of my Fate hath declined,Thy soft heart refused to discoverThe faults which so many could find.
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Perverts the Prophets and purloins the Psalms.
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Oh that the desert were my dwelling-place, With one fair spirit for my minister.
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As soonSeek roses in December, ice in June;Hope constancy in wind, or corn in chaff;Believe a woman or an epitaph,Or any other thing that's false, beforeYou trust in critics, who themselves are sore.
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Next to dressing for a rout or ball, undressing is a woe.
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Lovers may be and indeed generally are enemies, but they never can be friends, because there must always be a spice of jealousy and a something of Self in all their speculations.
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Oh, nature's noblest gift, my grey goose quill, Slave of my thoughts, obedient to my will, Torn from the parent bird to form a pen, That mighty instrument of little men.
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Be hypocritical, be cautious, be not what you seem but always what you see.
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Jack was embarrassed - never hero more,And as he knew not what to say, he swore.
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Constancy... that small change of love, which people exact so rigidly, receive in such counterfeit coin, and repay in baser metal.
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No words suffice the secret soul to show, For truth denies all eloquence to woe.
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I loved my country, and I hated him.
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My mother Earth!And thou fresh breaking Day, and you, ye Mountains,Why are ye beautiful? I cannot love ye.And thou, the bright eye of the universe,That openest over all, and unto allArt a delight-thou shin'st not on my heart.
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Sublime tobacco! which from east to westCheers the tar's labor or the Turkman's rest.
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Whenever I meet with anything agreeable in this world it surprises me so much - and pleases me so much (when my passions are not interested in one way or the other) that I go on wondering for a week to come.
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Let no man grumble when his friends fall off, As they will do like leaves at the first breeze; When your affairs come round, one way or t'other, Go to the coffee house, and take another.
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But we, who name ourselves its sovereigns, we, Half dust, half deity, alike unfitTo sink or soar.
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Fair Greece! sad relic of departed worth! Immortal, though no more! though fallen, great!
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From my youth upwardsMy spirit walk'd not with the souls of men,Nor look'd upon the earth with human eyes;The thirst of their ambition was not mine,The aim of their existence was not mine;My joys, my griefs, my passions, and my powersMade me a stranger.
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Bread has been made (indifferent) from potatoes; And galvanism has set some corpses grinning, But has not answer'd like the apparatus Of the Humane Society's beginning, By which men are unsuffocated gratis: What wondrous new machines have late been spinning.
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When Bishop Berkeley said "there was no matter." And proved it--'t was no matter what he said.
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Let us have wine and woman, mirth and laughter, Sermons and soda water the day after. Man, being reasonable, must get drunk; The best of life is but intoxication: Glory, the grape, love, gold, in these are sunk The hopes of all men, and of every nation; Without their sap, how branchless were the trunk Of life's strange tree, so fruitful on occasion: But to return--Get very drunk; and when You wake with head-ache, you shall see what then.
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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?