America is a model of force and freedom and moderation – with all the coarseness and rudeness of its people.
LORD BYRONThe first moment of an universal republic would convert me into an advocate for single and uncontradicted despotism.
More Lord Byron Quotes
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Think not I am what I appear.
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Always laugh when you can. It is cheap medicine.
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I awoke one day to find myself famous.
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Absence – that common cure of love.
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A thousand years may scare form a state. An hour may lay it in ruins.
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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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Newton, (that Proverb of the Mind,) alas! Declared, with all his grand discoveries recent, That he himself felt only “like a youth Picking up shells by the great Ocean-Truth.”
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Armenian is the language to speak with God.
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The poor dog, in life the firmest friend. The first to welcome, foremost to defend.
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Damn description, it is always disgusting.
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I deny nothing, but doubt everything.
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Tis the perception of the beautiful, A fine extension of the faculties, Platonic, universal, wonderful, Drawn from the stars, and filtered through the skies, Without which life would be extremely dull
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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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The heart will break, but broken live on.
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You gave me the key to your heart, my love, then why did you make me knock?
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I slept and dreamt that life was beauty; I woke and found that life was duty.
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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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I should, many a good day, have blown my brains out, but for the recollection that it would have given pleasure to my mother-in-law.
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For truth is always strange; stranger than fiction.
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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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Be warm, be pure, be amorous, but be chaste.
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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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The art of angling, the cruelest, the coldest and the stupidest of pretended sports.
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Reason is so unreasonable, that few people can say they are in possession of it.
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My heart in passion, and my head on rhymes.
LORD BYRON