Quotes by Lord Byron

I live not in myself, but I becom Portion of that around me: and to me High mountains are a feelin, but the hum of human cities torture.

Shakespeare's name, you may depend on it, stands absurdly too high and will go down.

Wives in their husbands' absences grow subtler, And daughters sometimes run off with the butler.

Yes! ready money is Aladdin's lamp.

The reading or non-reading a book will never keep down a single petticoat.

I would rather have a nod from an American, than a snuff- box from an emperor.

Every day confirms my opinion on the superiority of a vicious life, and if Virtue is not its own reward, I don't know any other stipend annexed to it.

Opinions are made to be changed or how is truth to be got at?

If I am fool, it is, at least, a doubting one; and I envy no one the certainty of his self-approved wisdom.

It is useless to tell one not to reason but to believe; you might as well tell a man not to wake but sleep.

I slept and dreamt that life was beauty; I woke and found that life was duty.

Her great merit is finding out mine; there is nothing so amiable as discernment.

Despair and Genius are too oft connected.

I do not believe in any religion, I will have nothing to do with immortality. We are miserable enough in this life without speculating upon another.

Tis strange,-but true; for truth is always strange;
Stranger than fiction: if it could be told,
How much would novels gain by the exchange!
How differently the world would men behold!

A woman who gives any advantage to a man may expect a lover -- but will sooner or later find a tyrant.

If I could always read I should never feel the want of company.

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.

And there the stories
Of martyrs awed, as Spagnoletto tainted
His brush with all the blood of all the sainted.

All who joy would win
Must share it -- Happiness was born a twin.

On with the dance! let joy be unconfin'd.

Fare thee well, and if for ever
Still for ever fare thee well.

The poor dog, in life the firmest friend, the first to welcome, the foremost to defend.

The stars are forth, the moon above the tops
Of the snow-shining mountains.--Beautiful!
I linger yet with Nature, for the night
Hath been to me a more familiar face
Than that of man; and in her starry shade
Of dim and solitary loveliness,
I learn'd the language of another world.

A woman being never at a loss... the devil always sticks by them.

Like other parties of the kind, it was first silent, then talky, then argumentative, then disputatious, then unintelligible, then altogether, then inarticulate, and then drunk. When we had reached the last step of this glorious ladder, it was difficult to get down again without stumbling.

LUCIFER: They say what they must sing and say on pain
Of being that which I am and thou art --
Of spirits and of men.

CAIN: And what is that?

LUCIFER: Souls who dare use their immortality,
Souls who dare look the omnipotent tyrant in
His everlasting face and tell him that
His evil is not good!

The light of love, the purity of grace,
The mind, the Music breathing from her face,
The heart whose softness harmonised the whole --
And, oh! that eye was in itself a Soul!

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.

Then stirs the feeling infinite, so felt
In solitude, where we are least alone.

Then stirs the feeling infinite, so felt in solitude, where we are least alone.

Oh! too convincing -- dangerously dear -- In woman's eye the unanswerable tear!

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

Farewell! a word that must be, and hath been--A sound which makes us linger; yet--farewell!

Merely innocent flirtation, Not quite adultery, but adulteration.

Wives in their husbands' absences grow subtler, and daughters sometimes run off with the butler.

Years steal fire from the mind as vigour from the limb; And life's enchanted cup but sparkles near the brim.

And, after all, what is lie? 'Tis but the truth in masquerade.

Always laugh when you can...it is a cheap medicine.

LUCIFER: I pity thee who lovest what must perish.
CAIN: And I thee who lov'st nothing.

So much alarmed that she is quite alarming.

And hold up to the sun my little taper.

And the commencement of atonement is the sense of its necessity.

I am ashes where once I was fire.

Think not I am what I appear.

We of the craft are all crazy.

How sweet and soothing is this hour of calm! I thank thee, night! for thou has chased away these horrid bodements which, amidst the throng, I could not dissipate; and with the blessing of thy benign and quiet influence now will I to my couch, although to rest is almost wronging such a night as this.

Dreading that climax of all human ills the inflammation of his weekly bills.

Cervantes smiled Spain's chivalry away.

Eternity forbids thee to forget.

Truth is a gem that is found at a great depth; whilst on the surface of the world all things are weighed by the false scale of custom.

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

I have a notion that gamblers are as happy as most people -- being always excited.

Lord of himself; that heritage of woe!

I loved my country, and I hated him.

Good but rarely came from good advice.

The law of heaven and earth is life for life.

While common men grow ignorantly old,
The lawyer's brief is like the surgeon's knife,
Dissecting the whole inside of a question,
And with it all the process of digestion.

This is to be mortal, And seek the things beyond mortality.

Have not all past human beings parted, And must not all the present, one day part?

Let not his mode of raising cash seem strange,
Although he fleeced the flags of every nation,
For into a prime minister but change
His title, and 'tis nothing but taxation.

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.

Dim with the mist of years, gray flits the shade of power.

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.

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.

The waves were dead; the tides were in their grave,
The moon, their mistress, had expir'd before;
The winds were wither'd in the stagnant air,
And the clouds perish'd; Darkness had no need
Of aid from them-She was the Universe.

There is no traitor like him whose domestic treason plants the poniard within the breast that trusted to his truth.

Oh! snatched away in beauty's bloom,
On thee shall press no ponderous tomb;
But on thy turf shall roses rear
Their leaves, the earliest of the year.

And dreams in their development have breath, And tears, and tortures, and the touch of joy; They have a weight upon our waking thoughts, They take a weight from off our waking toils, They do divide our being.

I have had, and may have still, a thousand friends, as they are called, in life, who are like one's partners in the waltz of this world -not much remembered when the ball is over.

Reason is so unreasonable, that few people can say they are in possession of it.

I will keep no further journal of that same hesternal torch‐light ; and, to prevent me from returning, like a dog, to the vomit of memory, I tear out the remaining leaves of this volume.

Romances paint at full length people's wooing. But only give a bust of marriages.

A timid mind is apt to mistake every scratch for a mortal wound.

Ada! sole daughter of my house and heart.

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

Armenian is the language to speak with God.

Christians have burnt each other, quite persuaded. That all the Apostles would have done as they did.

Grief is fantastical, and loves the dead, And the apparel of the grave.

None are so desolate but something dear, Dearer than self, possesses or possess'd A thought, and claims the homage of a tear.

Then, fare thee well, deceitful Maid!

When Bishop Berkeley said there was no matter. And proved it -- 't was no matter what he said.

What exile from himself can flee? To zones, though more and more remote, Still, still pursues, where'er I be, The blight of life -- the demon Thought.

Pure friendship's well-feigned blush.

Tis not on youth's smooth cheek the blush alone, which fades so fast, But the tender bloom of heart is gone, ere youth itself be past.

All Heaven and Earth are still, though not in sleep, But breathless, as we grow when feeling most.

Be warm, be pure, be amorous, but be chaste.

The mind can make substance, and people planets of its own with beings brighter than have been, and give a breath to forms which can outlive all flesh.

My great comfort is, that the temporary celebrity I have wrung from the world has been in the very teeth of all opinions and prejudices. I have flattered no ruling powers; I have never concealed a single thought that tempted me.

To what gulfs A single deviation from the track Of human duties leads even those who claim The homage of mankind as their born due, And find it, till they forfeit it themselves!

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.

And angling too, that solitary vice, What Izaak Walton sings or says: The quaint, old, cruel coxcomb, in his gullet Should have a hook, and a small trout to pull it.

So sweet the blush of bashfulness, E'en pity scarce can wish it less!

Whatsoever thy birth, Thou wert a beautiful thought, and softly bodied forth.

Bologna is celebrated for producing popes, painters, and sausage.

For there was soft remembrance, and sweet trust
In one fond breast, to which his own would melt,
And in its tenderer hour on that his bosom dwelt.