I stood among them, but not of them: in a shroud of thoughts which were not their thoughts.
LORD BYRONLet joy be unconfined.
More Lord Byron Quotes
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A drop of ink may make a million think.
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I slept and dreamt that life was beauty; I woke and found that life was duty.
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The art of angling, the cruelest, the coldest and the stupidest of pretended sports.
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Society is now one polished horde, formed of two mighty tries, the Bores and Bored.
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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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What deep wounds ever closed without a scar?
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Always laugh when you can; it is cheap medicine. Merriment is a philosophy not well understood. It is the sunny side of existence.
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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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What’s drinking? A mere pause from thinking!
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A woman who gives any advantage to a man may expect a lover – but will sooner or later find a tyrant.
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Where there is mystery, it is generally suspected there must also be evil.
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Tyranny is for the worst of treasons.
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The poor dog, in life the firmest friend. The first to welcome, foremost to defend.
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I have not loved the world, nor the world me.
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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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Reason is so unreasonable, that few people can say they are in possession of it.
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The devil was the first democrat
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Be thou the rainbow in the storms of life. The evening beam that smiles the clouds away, and tints tomorrow with prophetic ray.
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But what is Hope? Nothing but the paint on the face of Existence; the least touch of truth rubs it off, and then we see what a hollow-cheeked harlot we have got hold of.
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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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That music in itself, whose sounds are song, The poetry of speech.
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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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It is when we think we lead that we are most led.
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The busy have no time for tears.
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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.
LORD BYRON