Quotes by Lord Byron
It is very certain that the desire of life prolongs it.
The dead have been awakened - shall I sleep? The world's at war with tyrants - shall I crouch? the harvest's ripe - and shall I pause to reap? I slumber not; the thorn is in my couch; Each day a trumpet soundeth in mine ear, its echo in my heart.
Man's love is of man's life a part; it is a woman's whole existence. In her first passion, a woman loves her lover, in all the others all she loves is love.
I know that two and two make four - and should be glad to prove it too if I could - though I must say if by any sort of process I could convert 2 and 2 into five it would give me much greater pleasure.
I am about to be married, and am of course in all the misery of a man in pursuit of happiness.
Out of chaos God made a world, and out of high passions comes a people.
Yes, love indeed is light from heaven; A spark of that immortal fire with angels shared, by Allah given to lift from earth our low desire.
Oh! there is an organ playing in the street - a waltz too! I must leave off to listen.
If we must have a tyrant, let him at least be a gentleman who has been bred to the business, and let us fall by the axe and not by the butcher's cleaver.
Switzerland is a curst, selfish, swinish country of brutes, placed in the most romantic region of the world.
My attachment has neither the blindness of the beginning, nor the microscopic accuracy of the close of such liaisons.
I should be very willing to redress men wrongs, and rather check than punish crimes, had not Cervantes, in that all too true tale of Quixote, shown how all such efforts fail.
A wise man more than laughter from a dunce.
The dew of compassion is a tear.
For in itself a thought, a slumbering thought, is capable of years, and curdles a long life into one hour.
Between two worlds life hovers like a star, twixt night and morn, upon the horizon's verge.
For pleasures past I do not grieve, nor perils gathering near; My greatest grief is that I leave nothing that claims a tear.
To chase the glowing hours with flying feet.
I have great hopes that we shall love each other all our lives as much as if we had never married at all.
What a strange thing is the propagation of life! A bubble of seed which may be spilt in a whore's lap, or in the orgasm of a voluptuous dream, might (for aught we know) have formed a Caesar or a Bonaparte - there is nothing remarkable recorded of their sires, that I know of.
Why I came here, I know not; where I shall go it is useless to inquire - in the midst of myriads of the living and the dead worlds, stars, systems, infinity, why should I be anxious about an atom?
Folly loves the martyrdom of fame.
And yet a little tumult, now and then, is an agreeable quickener of sensation; such as a revolution, a battle, or an adventure of any lively description.
I have no consistency, except in politics; and that probably arises from my indifference to the subject altogether.
Who loves, raves.
