For truth is always strange; stranger than fiction.
LORD BYRONA timid mind is apt to mistake every scratch for a mortal wound.
More Lord Byron Quotes
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O thou beautiful And unimaginable ether! and Ye multiplying masses of increased And still increasing lights! what are ye? what Is this blue wilderness of interminable Air, where ye roll along, as I have seen
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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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Heaven gives its favourites-early death.
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Reason is so unreasonable, that few people can say they are in possession of it.
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I only go out to get me a fresh appetite for being alone.
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Let joy be unconfined.
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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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In solitude, when we are least alone.
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Like the measles, love is most dangerous when it comes late in life.
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One of the pleasures of reading old letters is the knowledge that they need no answer.
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Be warm, be pure, be amorous, but be chaste.
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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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The dew of compassion is a tear.
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If I don’t write to empty my mind, I go mad.
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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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Love will find a way through paths where wolves fear to prey.
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That music in itself, whose sounds are song, The poetry of speech.
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There is music in all things, if men had ears.
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Eternity forbids thee to forget.
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I have simplified my politics into an utter detestation of all existing governments; and, as it is the shortest and most agreeable and summary feeling imaginable.
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Self praise is no praise at all.
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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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Let us have wine and women, mirth and laughter, sermons and soda water the day after.
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They truly mourn, that mourn without a witness.
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The heart will break, but broken live on.
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Though I love my country, I do not love my countrymen.
LORD BYRON