Lord Byron Quotes

Marriage, from love, like vinegar from wine-- A sad, sour sober beverage--by time Is sharpened from its high celestial flavor Down to a very homely household savor.

Like to the apples on the Dead Sea's shore, All ashes to the taste.

So much alarmed that she is quite alarming

Books, Manuals, Directives, Regulations. The geometries that circumscribe your working life draw norrower and norrower until nothing fits inside them anymore.

Man is in part divine, A troubled stream from a pure source.

I am surrounded here by parsons and methodists, but as you will see, not infested with the mania.

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

Yon Sun that sets upon the sea We follow in his flight; Farewell awhile to him and thee, My native land-Good Night!

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.

I have always believed that all things depended upon Fortune, and nothing upon ourselves.

Liberty - eternal spirit of the chainless mind

And Mocha's berry, from Arabia pure, In small fine china cups, came in at last. Gold cups of filigree, made to secure the hand from burning, underneath them place. Cloves, cinnamon and saffron, too, were boiled Up with the coffee, which, I think, they spoiled.

For truth is always strange; stranger than fiction.

This is the patent age of new inventions for killing bodies, and for saving souls. All propagated with the best intentions.

I awoke one morning and found myself famous.

My boat is on the shore, And my bark is on the sea.

There is no such thing as a life of passion any more than a continuous earthquake, or an eternal fever. Besides, who would ever shave themselves in such a state?

A man must serve his time to every trade, Save censure-critics all are ready made. Take hackney'd jokes from Miller, got by rote With just enough learning to misquote.

Kill a man's family, and he may brook it, But keep your hands out of his breeches' pocket.

I depart, Whither I know not; but the hour's gone by When Albion's lessening shores could grieve or glad mine eye.

Sweet is old wine in bottles, ale in barrels.

The poor dog, in life the firmest friend, The first to welcome, foremost to defend, Whose honest heart is still the master's own, Who labours, fights, lives, breathes for him alone, Unhonour'd falls, unnoticed all his worth, Denied in heaven the soul he held on earth, While man, vain insect hopes to be forgiven, And claims himself a sole exclusive heaven.

The best prophet of the future is the past.

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

Oh! too convincing--dangerously dear-- In woman's eye the unanswerable tear! That weapon of her weakness she can wield, To save, subdue--at once her spear and shield.

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

There are four questions of value in life, Don Octavio. What is sacred? Of what is the spirit made? What is worth living for and what is worth dying for? The answer to each is the same. Only love.

Scion of chiefs and monarchs, where art thou? Fond hope of many nations, art thou dead? Could not the grave forget thee, and lay low Some less majestic, less beloved head?

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

A material resurrection seems strange and even absurd except for purposes of punishment, and all punishment which is to revenge rather than correct must be morally wrong, and when the World is at an end, what moral or warning purpose can eternal tortures answer?

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.

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

Happiness was born a twin.

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!

For a man to become a poet (witness Petrarch and Dante), he must be in love, or miserable.

I have great hopes that we shall love each other all our lives as much as if we had never married at all.

I stood in Venice, on the Bridge of Sighs, A palace and a prison on each hand.

Since Eve ate the apple, much depends on dinner.

You have to have a passion for your work. How can we expect people to be passionate if you, as their coach, does not have a passion? Coaching has to be something that gives you passion and energy.

Nothing so fretful, so despicable as a Scribbler, see what I am, and what a parcel of Scoundrels I have brought about my ears, and what language I have been obliged to treat them with to deal with them in their own way; - all this comes of Authorship.

Romances I ne'er read like those I have seen.

A thirst for gold, The beggar's vice, which can but overwhelm The meanest hearts.

When falls the Coliseum, Rome shall fall; And when Rome falls--the World.

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.

Send me no more reviews of any kind. I will read no more of evil or good in that line. Walter Scott has not read a review of himself for thirteen years .

And hold up to the sun my little taper.

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

The great art of life is sensation, to feel that we exist, even in pain.