Lord Byron Quotes
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Soprano, basso, even the contra-alto, Wished him five fathom under the Rialto.
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Why I came here, I know not; where I shall go it is useless to inquire - in the midst of myriads of the living and the dead worlds, stars, systems, infinity, why should I be anxious about an atom?
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That famish'd people must be slowly nurst, and fed by spoonfuls, else they always burst.
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Perverts the Prophets and purloins the Psalms.
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Oh! if thou hast at length Discover'd that my love is worth esteem, I ask no more-but let us hence together, And I - let me say we - shall yet be happy. Assyria is not all the earth-we'll find A world out of our own - and be more bless'd Than I have ever been, or thou, with all An empire to indulge thee.
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Be hypocritical, be cautious, be not what you seem but always what you see.
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I slept and dreamt that life was beauty; I woke and found that life was duty.
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He who hath bent him o'er the deadEre the first day of death is fled,-The first dark day of nothingness,The last of danger and distress,Before decay's effacing fingersHave swept the lines where beauty lingers.
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Mark! where his carnage and his conquests cease!He makes a solitude, and calls it - peace!
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I am as comfortless as a pilgrim with peas in his shoes - and as cold as Charity, Chastity or any other Virtue.
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But first, on earth as vampire sent, Thy corse shall from its tomb be rent, Then ghastly haunt thy native place, And suck the blood of all thy race. There from thy daughter, sister, wife, At midnight drain the stream of life, Yet loathe the banquet which perforce Must feed thy livid living corse. Thy victims ere they yet expire Shall know the demon for their sire, As cursing thee, thou cursing them, Thy flowers are withered on the stem.
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He makes a solitude, and calls it - peace!
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My great comfort is, that the temporary celebrity I have wrung from the world has been in the very teeth of all opinions and prejudices. I have flattered no ruling powers; I have never concealed a single thought that tempted me.
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This is the patent age of new inventions for killing bodies, and for saving souls. All propagated with the best intentions.
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By all that's good and glorious.
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Lord of himself,-that heritage of woe!
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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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And hold up to the sun my little taper.
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The bright sun was extinguish'd, and the stars Did wander darkling in the eternal space.
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No words suffice the secret soul to show, For truth denies all eloquence to woe.
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Which cheers the sad, revives the old, inspires The young, makes Weariness forget his toil, And Fear her danger; opens a new world When this, the present, palls.
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Next to dressing for a rout or ball, undressing is a woe.
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What an antithetical mind! - tenderness, roughness - delicacy, coarseness - sentiment, sensuality - soaring and groveling, dirt and deity - all mixed up in that one compound of inspired clay!
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But 'why then publish?' There are no rewards Of fame or profit when the world grows weary. I ask in turn why do you play at cards? Why drink? Why read? To make some hour less dreary. It occupies me to turn back regards On what I've seen or pondered, sad or cheery, And what I write I cast upon the stream To swim or sink. I have had at least my dream.