Lord Byron Quotes
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This is to be mortal, And seek the things beyond mortality.
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Yet he was jealous, though he did not show it, For jealousy dislikes the world to know it.
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A sort of hostile transaction, very necessary to keep the world going, but by no means a sinecure to the parties concerned.
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What say you to such a supper with such a woman?
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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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For most men (till by losing rendered sager)Will back their own opinions by a wager.
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Tis pleasing to be school'd in a strange tongue By female lips and eyes--that is, I mean, When both the teacher and the taught are young, As was the case, at least, where I have been; They smile so when one's right; and when one's wrong They smile still more.
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The reading or non-reading a book will never keep down a single petticoat.
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And to his eyeThere was but one beloved face on earth, And that was shining on him.
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The Cardinal is at his wit's end - it is true that he had not far to go.
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Better to err with Pope, than shine with Pye.
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The careful pilot of my proper woe.
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For through the South the custom still commands The gentleman to kiss the lady's hands.
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And then he danced,-all foreigners excel the serious Angels in the eloquence of pantomime;-he danced, I say, right well, with emphasis, and a'so with good sense-a thing in footing indispensable: he danced without theatrical pretence, not like a ballet-master in the van of his drill'd nymphs, but like a gentleman.
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He scratched his ear, the infallible resource to which embarrassed people have recourse.
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She was a form of life and lightThat seen, became a part of sight, And rose, where'er I turn'd mine eye, The morning-star of memory! Yes, love indeed is light from heaven; A spark of that immortal fireWith angels shared, by Alla given, To lift from earth our low desire.
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O Gold! I still prefer thee unto paper, which makes bank credit like a bark of vapour.
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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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For the Angel of Death spread his wings on the blast, And breathed in the face of the foe as he passed; And the eyes of the sleepers waxed deadly and chill, And their hearts but once heaved, and for ever grew still!
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So, we'll go no more a rovingSo late into the night,Though the heart be still as loving,And the moon be still as bright.
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So for a good old-gentlemanly vice, I think I must take up with avarice.
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I suppose we shall soon travel by air-vessels; make air instead of sea voyages; and at length find our way to the moon, in spite of the want of atmosphere.
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Eternal Spirit of the chainless Mind! Brightest in dungeons, Liberty! thou art, For there thy habitation is the heart –The heart which love of thee alone can bind; And when thy sons to fetters are consign'd – To fetters and damp vault's dayless gloom, Their country conquers with their martyrdom.
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He left a corsair's name to other times,Linked with one virtue, and a thousand crimes.