Lord Byron - Love 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
Love rules the camp, the court, the grove - for love is Heaven, and Heaven is love.

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

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
Man's love is of man's life a thing apart,
'Tis woman's whole existence.

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

Lord Byron
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
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
The love where Death has set his seal,
Nor age can chill, nor rival steal,
Nor falsehood disavow.

Lord Byron
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
So bright the tear in Beauty's eye, Love half regrets to kiss it dry.

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

Lord Byron
A mind at peace with all below,
A heart whose love is innocent!

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
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
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
Ave Maria! 'tis the hour of prayer!
Ave Maria! 'tis the hour of love!

Lord Byron
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
'Whom the gods love die young' was said of yore.
And many deaths do they escape by this.

Lord Byron