Tyranny is for the worst of treasons.
LORD BYRONThe tiger will himself intervene in the discussion, in a manner which will be in every sense conclusive.
More Lord Byron Quotes
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There’s not a joy the world can give like that it takes away.
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And I would hear yet once before I perish The voice which was my music… Speak to me!
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A thousand years may scare form a state. An hour may lay it in ruins.
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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.
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Reason is so unreasonable, that few people can say they are in possession of it.
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Sorrow is knowledge, those that know the most must mourn the deepest, the tree of knowledge is not the tree of life.
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There is pleasure in the pathless woods, there is rapture in the lonely shore, there is society where none intrudes, by the deep sea, and music in its roar; I love not Man the less, but Nature more.
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The great art of life is sensation, to feel that we exist, even in pain.
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Eat, drink and love…the rest is not worth a nickel
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I have not loved the world, nor the world me.
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A pretty woman is a welcome guest.
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I am not now That which I have been.
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Good work and joyous play go hand in hand. When play stops, old age begins. Play keeps you from taking life too seriously.
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That music in itself, whose sounds are song, The poetry of speech.
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Let joy be unconfined.
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It is useless to tell one not to reason but to believe; you might as well tell a man not to wake but sleep.
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Gone, glimmering through the dream of things that were.
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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?
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I stood in Venice, on the Bridge of Sighs; A palace and a prison on each hand;
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What deep wounds ever closed without a scar?
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Since Eve ate the apple, much depends on dinner.
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We have fools in all sects, and impostors in most; why should I believe mysteries no one can understand, because written by men who chose to mistake madness for inspiration and style themselves Evangelicals?
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Hatred is the madness of the heart.
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In solitude, when we are least alone.
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Few things surpass old wine; and they may preach Who please, the more because they preach in vain
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In solitude, where we are least alone.
LORD BYRON