Lord Byron Quotes
Those who will not reason are bigots, those who cannot are fools, and those who dare not are slaves.
The great art of life is sensation, to feel that we exist, even in pain.
The best prophet of the future is the past.
In secret we met – in silence I grieve, that thy heart could forget, thy spirit deceive.
Love will find a way through paths where wolves fear to prey.
If I do not write to empty my mind, I go mad.
There is pleasure in the pathless woods, there is rapture in the lonely shore.
The beginning of atonement is the sense of its necessity.
The mind of man is capable of anything
Love’s fire heats water, water cools not love.
A man’s love is like a moon; it comes and goes through different phases, but always shines in the night.
We first make our habits, and then our habits make us.
Roll on, deep and dark blue ocean, roll. Ten thousand fleets sweep over thee in vain.
To have joy, one must share it. Happiness was born a twin.
I love not man the less, but nature more.
Sorrow is knowledge; they who know the most must mourn the deepest o’er the fatal truth.
What is fame? The advantage of being known by people of whom you yourself know nothing, and for whom you care as little.
The great object of life is sensation- to feel that we exist, even though in pain.
There is a pleasure in the pathless woods, there is a rapture on the lonely shore.
In solitude, where we are least alone.
Friendship is love without his wings.
Love will find a way through paths where wolves fear to prey.
The soul that can speak with its eyes can also kiss with a gaze.
Those who will not reason, perish in the act; Those who will not act, perish for that reason.
There is something pagan in me that I cannot shake off. In short, I deny nothing, but doubt everything.
All who joy would win must share it- happiness was born a twin.
All farewells should be sudden, when forever.
In the desert a fountain is springing, in the wide waste there still is a tree, and a bird in the solitude singing, which speaks to my spirit of thee.
Life’s enchanted cup sparkles near the brim.
Farewell! If ever fondest prayer, for others’ weal availed on high, mine will not all be lost in air, but waft thy name beyond the sky.
The dew of compassion is a tear.
Man’s love is of a man’s life a thing apart; ’tis woman’s sole existence.
Friendship may, and often does, grow into love, but love never subsides into friendship.
I love a ballad but even too well, if it be doleful matter merrily set down, or a very pleasant thing indeed.
Absence – that common cure of love.
Sorrow is knowledge.
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.
The heart will break, but broken live on.
Satan rises from the waves.
But words are things, and a small drop of ink, falling like dew, upon a thought produces that which makes thousands, perhaps millions think.
Love is love’s reward.
There is pleasure in the pathless woods.
Romances paint at full length people’s wooings, but only give a bust of marriages: for no one cares for matrimonial cooings.
Well, they’re gone, and here must I remain, this lime-tree bower my prison!
I only go out to get me a fresh appetite for being alone.
Be thou the rainbow in the storms of life. The evening beam that smiles the clouds away, and tints tomorrow with prophetic ray.
My time has been passed viciously and agreeably— at thirty-one so few years, months, days, hours, or minutes remain that Carpe Diem is not enough. I have been obliged to crop even the seconds- for who can trust to tomorrow?
The ‘good old times’ — all times when old are good.
There is no instinct like that of the heart.
All who joy would win must share it. Happiness was born a twin.