The great art of life is sensation, to feel that we exist, even in pain.
LORD BYRONHatred is the madness of the heart.
More Lord Byron Quotes
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I live, but live to die: and, living, see nothing to make death hateful, save an innate clinging, a loathsome and yet all invincible instinct of life, which I abhor, as I despise myself, yet cannot overcome – and so I live. Would I had never lived!
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She walks in beauty, like the night Of cloudless climes and starry skies; And all that’s best of dark and bright Meet in her aspect and her eyes.
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But words are things, and a small drop of ink, Falling like dew, upon a thought, produces That which makes thousands, perhaps millions, think.
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I have imbibed such a love for money that I keep some sequins in a drawer to count, and cry over them once a week.
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What is fame? The advantage of being known by people of whom you yourself know nothing, and for whom you care as little.
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All tragedies are finished by a death, All comedies are ended by a marriage.
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Let joy be unconfined.
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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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There is no instinct like that of the heart.
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Who then will explain the explanation?
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Where there is mystery, it is generally suspected there must also be evil.
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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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If I don’t write to empty my mind, I go mad.
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Though I love my country, I do not love my countrymen.
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Like the measles, love is most dangerous when it comes late in life.
LORD BYRON