Lord Byron Quotes

Grief should be the instructor of the wise; Sorrow is Knowledge.

I am so changeable, being everything by turns and nothing long - such a strange melange of good and evil.

What exile from himself can flee? To zones, though more and more remote, Still, still pursues, where'er I be, The blight of life--the demon Thought.

'Tis solitude should teach us how to die; It hath no flatterers; vanity can give, No hollow aid; alone - man with God must strive.

There are some feelings time cannot benumb, Nor torture shake.

Talent may be in time forgiven, but genius never

Of all the horrid, hideous notes of woe, Sadder than owl-songs or the midnight blast; Is that portentous phrase, "I told you so.

I do detest everything which is not perfectly mutual.

Then farewell, Horace; whom I hated so, Not for thy faults, but mine.

Never to talk to ones self is a form of hypocrisy

But I hate things all fiction... there should always be some foundation of fact for the most airy fabric - and pure invention is but the talent of a liar.

Twas twilight, and the sunless day went down Over the waste of waters; like a veil, Which, if withdrawn, would but disclose the frown Of one whose hate is mask'd but to assail.

But 'midst the crowd, the hum, the shock of men, To hear, to see, to feel, and to possess, And roam along, the world's tired denizen, With none who bless us, none whom we can bless.

And Doubt and Discord step 'twixt thine and thee.

I am never long, even in the society of her I love, without yearning for the company of my lamp and my library.

That famish'd people must be slowly nurst, and fed by spoonfuls, else they always burst.

In commitment, we dash the hopes of a thousand potential selves.

Go let thy less than woman's hand Assume the distaff not the brand.

So bright the tear in Beauty's eye, Love half regrets to kiss it dry.

I really cannot know whether I am or am not the Genius you are pleased to call me, but I am very willing to put up with the mistake, if it be one.

Frienship is eros...without wings

Curiosity kills itself; and love is only curiosity, as is proved by its end.

History - the devil's scripture

Ada! sole daughter of my house and heart.

The poetry of speech.

What want these outlaws conquerors should have but history's purchased page to call them great?

Scion of chiefs and monarchs, where art thou? Fond hope of many nations, art thou dead? Could not the grave forget thee, and lay low Some less majestic, less beloved head?

The Christian has greatly the advantage of the unbeliever, having everything to gain and nothing to lose.

Age shakes Athena's tower, but spares gray Marathon.

Such partings break the heart they fondly hope to heal.

Such hath it been--shall be--beneath the sun The many still must labour for the one.

Shakespeare's name, you may depend on it, stands absurdly too high and will go down.

Christians have burnt each other, quite persuaded. That all the Apostles would have done as they did.

Oh, talk not to me of a name great in story; The days of our youth are the days of our glory; And the myrtle and ivy of sweet two-and-twenty Are worth all your laurels, though ever so plenty.

I doubt sometimes whether a quiet and unagitated life would have suited me - yet I sometimes long for it.

Religion-freedom-vengeance-what you will, A word's enough to raise mankind to kill.

Nor all that heralds rake from coffin'd clay, Nor florid prose, nor honied lies of rhyme, Can blazon evil deeds, or consecrate a crime.

When Bishop Berkeley said "there was no matter." And proved it--'t was no matter what he said.

My days are in the yellow leaf; The flowers and fruits of love are gone; The worm, the canker, and the grief, Are mine alone!

I only know we loved in vain; I only feel-farewell! farewell!

The world is a bundle of hay, Mankind are the asses that pull, Each tugs in a different way And the greatest of all is John Bull!

I feel my immortality over sweep all pains, all tears, all time, all fears, - and peal, like the eternal thunders of the deep, into my ears, this truth, - thou livest forever!

Liberty - eternal spirit of the chainless mind

O ye! who teach the ingenious youth of nations, Holland, France, England, Germany or Spain, I pray ye flog them upon all occasions, It mends their morals, never mind the pain.

Our life is two fold Sleep hath its own world, A boundary between the things misnamed Death and existence Sleep hath its own world, And a wide realm of wild reality.

My native land, good night!

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.

Champagne with its foaming whirls/As white as Cleopatra's pearls.

Just as old age is creeping on space, And clouds come o'er the sunset of our day, They kindly leave us, though not quite alone, But in good company--the gout or stone.

It is not for minds like ours to give or to receive flatter; yet the praises of sincerity have ever been permitted to the voice of friendship