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Lord Byron -
Love
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35 Sourced Quotes
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There is a pleasure in the pathless woods,
There is a rapture on the lonely shore,
There is society, where none intrudes,
By the deep sea, and music in its roar:
I love not man the less, but nature more.
Lord Byron
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Love rules the camp, the court, the grove - for love is Heaven, and Heaven is love.
Lord Byron
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Friendship may, and often does, grow into love, but love never subsides into friendship.
Lord Byron
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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
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Man's love is of man's life a thing apart,
'Tis woman's whole existence.
Lord Byron
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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
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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
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For the sword outwears its sheath,
And the soul wears out the breast,
And the heart must pause to breathe,
And love itself have rest.
Lord Byron
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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
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Now hatred is by far the longest pleasure;
Men love in haste, but they detest at leisure.
Lord Byron
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I have great hopes that we shall love each other all our lives as much as if we had never married at all.
Lord Byron
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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
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The love where Death has set his seal,
Nor age can chill, nor rival steal,
Nor falsehood disavow.
Lord Byron
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Know ye the land where the cypress and myrtle Are emblems of deeds that are done in their clime? Where the rage of the vulture, the love of the turtle, Now melt into sorrow, now madden to crime!
Lord Byron
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So bright the tear in Beauty's eye, Love half regrets to kiss it dry.
Lord Byron
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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
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I love the language, that soft bastard Latin,
Which melts like kisses from a female mouth,
And sounds as if it should be writ on satin,
With syllables which breathe of the sweet South,
And gentle liquids gliding all so pat in,
That not a single accent seems uncouth,
Like our harsh northern whistling, grunting guttural,
Which we're obliged to hiss, and spit, and sputter all.
Lord Byron
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The cold in clime are cold in blood,
Their love can scarce deserve the name.
Lord Byron
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A mind at peace with all below,
A heart whose love is innocent!
Lord Byron
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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
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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
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There is no passion, more spectral or fantastical than hate, not even its opposite, love, so peoples air, with phantoms, as this madness of the heart.
Lord Byron
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Ave Maria! 'tis the hour of prayer!
Ave Maria! 'tis the hour of love!
Lord Byron
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Oh! if thou hast at length
Discover'd that my love is worth esteem,
I ask no more—but let us hence together,
And I — let me say we — shall yet be happy.
Assyria is not all the earth—we'll find
A world out of our own — and be more bless'd
Than I have ever been, or thou, with all
An empire to indulge thee.
Lord Byron
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'Whom the gods love die young' was said of yore.
And many deaths do they escape by this.
Lord Byron
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Quote of the day
There aren't many irritations to match the condescension which a woman metes out to a man who she believes has loved her vainly for the past umpteen years.
Edward Hoagland
Lord Byron
Creative Commons
Born:
January 22, 1788
Died:
April 19, 1824
(aged 36)
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