Lord Byron Quotes

453 Sourced Quotes

Now my sere fancy 'falls into the yellow
Leaf,' and imagination droops her pinion,
And the sad truth which hovers o'er my desk
Turns what was once romantic to burlesque.

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

Lord Byron
…That all-softening, overpowering knell,
The tocsin of the soul—the dinner bell.

Lord Byron
The heart ran o'er
With silent worship of the great of old!
The dead but sceptred sovereigns, who still rule
Our spirits from their urns.

Lord Byron
Soprano, basso, even the contra-alto,
Wished him five fathom under the Rialto.

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

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Twas twilight, and the sunless day went down Over the waste of waters; like a veil, Which, if withdrawn, would but disclose the frown Of one whose hate is mask'd but to assail.

Lord Byron
When age chills the blood, when our pleasures are past—
For years fleet away with the wings of the dove—
The dearest remembrance will still be the last,
Our sweetest memorial the first kiss of love.

Lord Byron
All who joy would win must share it. Happiness was born a Twin.

Lord Byron
Because
He is all-powerful, must all-good, too, follow?
I judge but by the fruits—and they are bitter—
Which I must feed on for a fault not mine.

Lord Byron
Italia! oh Italia! thou who hast
The fatal gift of beauty.

Lord Byron
The very knowledge that he lived in vain,
That all was over on this side the tomb,
Had made Despair a smilingness assume.

Lord Byron
Oh! might I kiss those eyes of fire, A million scarce would quench desire; Still would I steep my lips in bliss, And dwell an age on every kiss; Nor then my soul should sated be, Still would I kiss and cling to thee: Nought should my kiss from thine dissever, Still would we kiss and kiss for ever; E'en though the numbers did exceed The yellow harvest's countless seed; To part would be a vain endeavour: Could I desist? -ah! never-never.

Lord Byron
'Tis done—but yesterday a King!
And armed with Kings to strive—
And now thou art a nameless thing:
So abject—yet alive!

Lord Byron
He had kept The whiteness of his soul, and thus men o'er him wept.

Lord Byron
Kill a man's family, and he may brook it, But keep your hands out of his breeches' pocket.

Lord Byron
Cold is the heart, fair Greece! that looks on thee,
Nor feels as lovers o'er the dust they loved;
Dull is the eye that will not weep to see
Thy walls defaced, thy mouldering shrines removed
By British hands.

Lord Byron
The spirit burning but unbent,
May writhe, rebel—the weak alone repent!

Lord Byron
While Franklin's quiet memory climbs to heaven,
Calming the lightning which he thence hath riven,
Or drawing from the no less kindled earth
Freedom and peace to that which boasts his birth;
While Washington's a watchword, such as ne'er
Shall sink while there's an echo left to air.

Lord Byron
None are so desolate but something dear,
Dearer than self, possesses or possessed
A thought, and claims the homage of a tear.

Lord Byron
Mark! where his carnage and his conquests cease! He makes a solitude, and calls it—peace!

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

Lord Byron
The cold in clime are cold in blood,
Their love can scarce deserve the name.

Lord Byron
Oh, God! it is a fearful thing
To see the human soul take wing
In any shape, in any mood.

Lord Byron
The isles of Greece, the isles of Greece!
Where burning Sappho loved and sung,
Where grew the arts of war and peace,
Where Delos rose, and Phoebus sprung!
Eternal summer gilds them yet,
But all, except their sun, is set!

Lord Byron