Lord Byron Quotes
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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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The basis of your religion is injustice. The Son of God the pure, the immaculate, the innocent, is sacrificed for the guilty. This proves his heroism, but no more does away with man's sin than a school boy's volunteering to be flogged for another would exculpate a dunce from negligence.
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The art of angling, the cruelest, the coldest and the stupidest of pretended sports.
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Man is a carnivorous production, And must have meals, at least one meal a day; He cannot live, like woodcocks, upon suction, But, like the shark and tiger, must have prey; Although his anatomical construction Bears vegetables, in a grumbling way, Your laboring people think beyond all question, Beef, veal, and mutton better for digestion.
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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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Oh that the desert were my dwelling-place, With one fair spirit for my minister.
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Besides, they always smell of bread and butter.
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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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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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Mark! where his carnage and his conquests cease!He makes a solitude, and calls it - peace!
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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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Lord of himself,-that heritage of 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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By all that's good and glorious.
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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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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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Next to dressing for a rout or ball, undressing is a woe.
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A pretty woman is a welcome guest.
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But there are wanderers o'er Eternity Whose bark drives on and on, and anchor'd ne'er shall be.
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With just enough of learning to misquote.
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Her great merit is finding out mine; there is nothing so amiable as discernment.
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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.