Lord Byron Quotes

453 Sourced Quotes

'Tis strange the mind, that very fiery particle, Should let itself be snuff'd out by an article.

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

Lord Byron
Maidens, like moths, are ever caught by glare, And Mammon wins his way where seraphs might despair.

Lord Byron
Years steal
Fire from the mind as vigor from the limb;
And life's enchanted cup but sparkles near the brim.

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

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Twas twilight, and the sunless day went down Over the waste of waters; like a veil, Which, if withdrawn, would but disclose the frown Of one whose hate is mask'd but to assail.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