Lord Byron Quotes

453 Sourced Quotes

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
Hands promiscuously applied,
Round the slight waist, or down the glowing side.

Lord Byron
What makes a regiment of soldiers a more noble object of view than the same mass of mob? Their arms, their dresses, their banners, and the art and artificial symmetry of their position and movements.

Lord Byron
Shrine of the mighty! can it be
That this is all remains of thee?

Lord Byron
What is the end of fame? 'tis but to fill A certain portion of uncertain paper: Some liken it to climbing up a hill, Whose summit, like all hills, is lost in vapor.

Lord Byron
His heart was one of those which most enamour us,
Wax to receive, and marble to retain:
He was a lover of the good old school,
Who still become more constant as they cool.

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
Lo! where the Giant on the mountain stands,
His blood-red tresses deep'ning in the sun,
With death-shot glowing in his fiery hands,
And eye that scorcheth all it glares upon.

Lord Byron
I've stood upon Achilles' tomb,
And heard Troy doubted; time will doubt of Rome.

Lord Byron
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!

Lord Byron
Though sages may pour out their wisdom's treasure, there is no sterner moralist than pleasure.

Lord Byron
Such was Zuleika, such around her shone
The nameless charms unmarked by her alone—
The light of love, the purity of grace,
The mind, the Music breathing from her face,
The heart whose softness harmonized the whole,
And oh! that eye was in itself a Soul!

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
The Devil hath not, in all his quiver's choice, An arrow for the heart like a sweet voice.

Lord Byron
But take this with thee: if I was not form'd
To prize a love like thine, a mind like thine,
Nor dote even on thy beauty — as I've doted
On lesser charms, for no cause save that such
Devotion was a duty, and I hated
All that look'd like a chain for me or others
(This even rebellion must avouch); yet hear
These words, perhaps among my last — that none
E'er valued more thy virtues, though he knew not
To profit by them…

Lord Byron
Like other parties of the kind, it was first silent, then talky, then argumentative, then disputatious, then unintelligible, then altogethery, then inarticulate, and then drunk.

Lord Byron
Jack was embarrassed — never hero more,
And as he knew not what to say, he swore.

Lord Byron
Where'er we tread 'tis haunted, holy ground.

Lord Byron
History's purchased page to call them great.

Lord Byron
Hereditary bondsmen! know ye not
Who would be free themselves must strike the blow?

Lord Byron
Then stirs the feeling infinite, so felt In solitude, where we are least alone.

Lord Byron
Friendship may, and often does, grow into love, but love never subsides into friendship.

Lord Byron
Farewell!
For in that word, that fatal word,—howe'er
We promise, hope, believe,—there breathes despair.

Lord Byron
Yet he was jealous, though he did not show it, For jealousy dislikes the world to know it.

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
Let simple Wordsworth chime his childish verse,
And brother Coleridge lull the babe at nurse.

Lord Byron
I have not loved the world, nor the world me; I have not flatter'd its rank breath, nor bow'd To its idolatries a patient knee.

Lord Byron
As the liberty lads o'er the sea
Bought their freedom, and cheaply, with blood,
So we, boys, we
Shall die fighting or live free,
And down with all kings but King Ludd!

Lord Byron
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.

Lord Byron
His love was passion's essence:—as a tree
On fire by lightning, with ethereal flame
Kindled he was, and blasted.
Of Jean-Jacques rousseau

Lord Byron