Lord Byron Quotes

453 Sourced Quotes

But beef is rare within these oxless isles; Goat's flesh there is, no doubt, and kid, and mutton; And, when a holiday upon them smiles, A joint upon their barbarous spits they put on.

Lord Byron
All Heaven and Earth are still, though not in sleep, But breathless, as we grow when feeling most.

Lord Byron
Physicians mend or end us, Secundum artem; but although we sneer - In health - when ill we call them to attend us, Without the least propensity to jeer

Lord Byron
He who grown aged in this world of woe, In deeds, not years, piercing the depths of life, So that no wonder waits him.

Lord Byron
That music in itself, whose sounds are song, The poetry of speech.

Lord Byron
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.

Lord Byron
A thirst for gold, The beggar's vice, which can but overwhelm The meanest hearts.

Lord Byron
The cold, the changed, perchance the dead, anew, The mourn'd, the loved, the lost,-too many, yet how few!

Lord Byron
By Heaven! it is a splendid sight to see For one who hath no friend, no brother there.

Lord Byron
I speak not of men's creeds—they rest between Man and his Maker.

Lord Byron
I hate all pain, Given or received; we have enough within us The meanest vassal as the loftiest monarch, Not to add to each other's natural burden Of mortal misery.

Lord Byron
This quiet sail is as a noiseless wing To waft me from distraction.

Lord Byron
And I would hear yet once before I perish The voice which was my music... Speak to me!

Lord Byron
May Moorland weavers boast Pindaric skill, And tailors' lays be longer than their bill! While punctual beaux reward the grateful notes, And pay for poems--when they pay for coats.

Lord Byron
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.

Lord Byron
Then rose from sea to sky the wild farewell Then shriek'd the timid, and stood still the brave, Then some leap'd overboard with fearful yell, As eager to anticipate their grave.

Lord Byron
Few things surpass old wine; and they may preach Who please, the more because they preach in vain

Lord Byron
Yet smelt roast meat, beheld a huge fire shine, And cooks in motion with their clean arms bared.

Lord Byron
Let not his mode of raising cash seem strange,
Although he fleeced the flags of every nation,
For into a prime minister but change
His title, and 'tis nothing but taxation.

Lord Byron
The angels all were singing out of tune, And hoarse with having little else to do, Excepting to wind up the sun and moon, Or curb a runaway young star or two, Or wild colt of a comet, which too soon Broke out of bounds o'er the ethereal blue, Splitting some planet with its beautiful tail, As boats are sometimes by a wanton whale.

Lord Byron
I cannot describe to you the despairing sensation of trying to do something for a man who seems incapable or unwilling to do anything further for himself.

Lord Byron
Shelley is truth itself and honour itself notwithstanding his out-of-the-way notions about religion.

Lord Byron
I've seen your stormy seas and stormy women, And pity lovers rather more than seamen.

Lord Byron
Well, well, the world must turn upon its axis, And all mankind turn with it, heads or tails, And live and die, make love and pay our taxes, And as the veering winds shift, shift our sails.

Lord Byron
Many are poets, but without the name;For what is Poesy but to createFrom overfeeling Good or Ill; and aimAt an external life beyond our fate,And be the new Prometheus of new men,Bestowing fire from Heaven, and then, too late,Finding the pleasure given repaid with pain

Lord Byron
Oh, Christ! it is a goodly sight to see What Heaven hath done for this delicious land!

Lord Byron
Yon Sun that sets upon the sea We follow in his flight; Farewell awhile to him and thee, My native land-Good Night!

Lord Byron
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

Lord Byron
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.

Lord Byron
Perhaps the early grave Which men weep over may be meant to save.

Lord Byron