Lord Byron Quotes

453 Sourced Quotes

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?

Lord Byron
It is not in the storm nor in the strife
We feel benumbed, and wish to be no more,
But in the after-silence on the shore,
When all is lost, except a little life.

Lord Byron
When people say, "I've told you fifty times," / They mean to scold, and very often do; / When poets say, "I've written fifty rhymes," / They make you dread that they 'II recite them too; In gangs of fifty, thieves commit their crimes; / At fifty love for love is rare, 't is true, / But then, no doubt, it equally as true is, / A good deal may be bought for fifty Louis.

Lord Byron
There be none of Beauty's daughters
With a magic like thee;
And like music on the waters
Is thy sweet voice to me.

Lord Byron
Sorrow is knowledge: they who know the most
Must mourn the deepest o'er the fatal truth,
The Tree of Knowledge is not that of Life.

Lord Byron
I live not in myself, but I become Portion of that around me: and to me High mountains are a feeling, but the hum Of human cities torture.

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
Between two worlds life hovers like a star, twixt night and morn, upon the horizon's verge.

Lord Byron
And when the gorgeous coffin was laid low,
It seemed the mockery of hell to fold
The rottenness of eighty years in gold.
On the burial of george iii

Lord Byron
Such writing is a sort of mental masturbation—he is always f—gg—g his imagination.—I don't mean that he is indecent but viciously soliciting his own ideas into a state which is neither poetry nor any thing else but a Bedlam vision produced by raw pork and opium.
Of keats

Lord Byron
In England the only homage which they pay to Virtue—is hypocrisy.

Lord Byron
Now what I love in women is, they won't Or can't do otherwise than lie, but do it. So well, the very truth seems falsehood to it.

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

Lord Byron
There is, in fact, no law or government at all [in Italy]; and it is wonderful how well things go on without them.

Lord Byron
Did'st ever see a gondola?…
It glides along the water looking blackly,
Just like a coffin clapt in a canoe.

Lord Byron
He who hath bent him o'er the dead
Ere the first day of death is fled,—
The first dark day of nothingness,
The last of danger and distress,
Before decay's effacing fingers
Have swept the lines where beauty lingers.

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
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
How little do we know that which we are!
How less what we may be!

Lord Byron
I am the very slave of circumstance
And impulse — borne away with every breath!
Misplaced upon the throne — misplaced in life.
I know not what I could have been, but feel
I am not what I should be — let it end.

Lord Byron
He seems
To have seen better days, as who has not
Who has seen yesterday?

Lord Byron
My mother Earth!
And thou fresh breaking Day, and you, ye Mountains,
Why are ye beautiful? I cannot love ye.
And thou, the bright eye of the universe,
That openest over all, and unto all
Art a delight—thou shin'st not on my heart.

Lord Byron
Here's a sigh to those who love me,
And a smile to those who hate:
And, whatever sky's above me,
Here's a heart for every fate.

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

Lord Byron
Now hatred is by far the longest pleasure;
Men love in haste, but they detest at leisure.

Lord Byron