Lord Byron - Don Juan

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Even good men like to make the public stare.

Lord Byron
Yet smelt roast meat, beheld a huge fire shine, And cooks in motion with their clean arms bared.

Lord Byron
A lovely being, scarcely formed or moulded,
A rose with all its sweetest leaves yet folded.

Lord Byron
Pythagoras, Locke, Socrates - but pages might be filled up, as vainly as before, with the sad usage of all sorts of sages, who in his life-time, each was deemed a bore! The loftiest minds outrun their tardy ages.

Lord Byron
O Gold! I still prefer thee unto paper, which makes bank credit like a bark of vapour.

Lord Byron
Be hypocritical, be cautious, be not what you seem but always what you see.

Lord Byron
Nothing can confound a wise man more than laughter from a dunce.

Lord Byron
Tis pleasing to be school'd in a strange tongue By female lips and eyes--that is, I mean, When both the teacher and the taught are young, As was the case, at least, where I have been; They smile so when one's right; and when one's wrong They smile still more.

Lord Byron
When Newton saw an apple fall, he found In that slight startle from his contemplation- 'Tis said (for I'll not answer above ground For any sage's creed or calculation)- A mode of proving that the earth turn'd round In a most natural whirl, called 'gravitation'; And this is the sole mortal who could grapple, Since Adam, with a fall, or with an apple.

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Twas twilight, and the sunless day went down Over the waste of waters; like a veil, Which, if withdrawn, would but disclose the frown Of one whose hate is mask'd but to assail.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
But every fool describes, in these bright days, His wondrous journey to some foreign court, And spawns his quarto, and demands your praise,-- Death to his publisher, to him 'tis sport.

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

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

Lord Byron
Prose poets like blank-verse, I'm fond of rhyme,
Good workmen never quarrel with their tools.

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

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

Lord Byron
But time strips our illusions of their hue,
And one by one in turn, some grand mistake
Casts off its bright skin yearly, like a snake.

Lord Byron
But Shakespeare also says, 'tis very silly
'To gild refined gold, or paint the lily.'

Lord Byron
Why don't they knead two virtuous souls for life
Into that moral centaur, man and wife?

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
There's nought, no doubt, so much the spirit calms
As rum and true religion.

Lord Byron
Just as old age is creeping on space,
And clouds come o'er the sunset of our day,
They kindly leave us, though not quite alone,
But in good company—the gout or stone.

Lord Byron
Dreading that climax of all human ills,
The inflammation of his weekly bills.

Lord Byron
'Let there be light!' said God, and there was light!'
'Let there be blood!' says man, and there's a sea!

Lord Byron
What men call gallantry, and gods adultery,
Is much more common where the climate's sultry.

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
"Gentlemen farmers" — a race worn out quite.

Lord Byron
The English winter—ending in July,
To recommence in August.

Lord Byron
This sort of adoration of the real is but a heightening of the beau ideal.

Lord Byron