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Lord Byron Quotes - Page 21

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None are so desolate but something dear, Dearer than self, possesses or possess'd A thought, and claims the homage of a tear.

None are so desolate but something dear, Dearer than self, possesses or possess'd A thought, and claims the homage of a tear.

Self, Tears, Claims

'Childe Harold's Pilgrimage' (1812-18) canto 2, st. 24

Yet smelt roast meat, beheld a huge fire shine, And cooks in motion with their clean arms bared.

Fire, Shining, Meat

Lord Byron (2009). “Don Juan”, p.258, The Floating Press

May Moorland weavers boast Pindaric skill, And tailors' lays be longer than their bill! While punctual beaux reward the grateful notes, And pay for poems--when they pay for coats.

Grateful, Skills, Coats

Lord Byron (2013). “Delphi Complete Works of Lord Byron (Illustrated)”, p.606, Delphi Classics

Switzerland is a curst, selfish, swinish country of brutes, placed in the most romantic region of the world.

Country, Selfish, World

Lord Byron (1990). “The Sayings of Lord Byron”, p.41, Gerald Duckworth & Co

The cold, the changed, perchance the dead, anew, The mourn'd, the loved, the lost,-too many, yet how few!

Love, Losing, Cold

Lord Byron, Lord George Gordon Byron (2013). “Childe Harold's Pilgrimage”, p.136, Cambridge University Press

Just as old age is creeping on space, And clouds come o'er the sunset of our day, They kindly leave us, though not quite alone, But in good company--the gout or stone.

Sunset, Clouds, Space

Such is your cold coquette, who can't say "No," And won't say "Yes," and keeps you on and off-ing On a lee-shore, till it begins to blow, Then sees your heart wreck'd, with an inward scoffing.

Heart, Blow, Coquette

Lord Byron (2013). “Don Juan”, p.297, Simon and Schuster

But at sixteen the conscience rarely gnaws So much, as when we call our old debts in At sixty years, and draw the accounts of evil, And find a deuced balance with the devil.

Years, Evil, Balance

Lord Byron (2013). “Don Juan”, p.39, Simon and Schuster

Still from the fount of joy's delicious springs Some bitter o'er the flowers its bubbling venom flings.

Spring, Flower, Joy

Lord Byron (2013). “Delphi Complete Works of Lord Byron (Illustrated)”, p.198, Delphi Classics

There is no passion, more spectral or fantastical than hate, not even its opposite, love, so peoples air, with phantoms, as this madness of the heart.

Hate, Passion, Heart

Lord Byron (2013). “Delphi Complete Works of Lord Byron (Illustrated)”, p.1469, Delphi Classics

Marriage, from love, like vinegar from wine-- A sad, sour sober beverage--by time Is sharpened from its high celestial flavor Down to a very homely household savor.

Wine, Flavor, Vinegar

'Don Juan' (1819-24) canto 3, st. 5

Once more upon the waters! yet once more! And the waves bound beneath me as a steed That knows his rider.

Ocean, Sea, Water

'Childe Harold's Pilgrimage' (1812-18) canto 3, st. 2

Venice once was dear, The pleasant place of all festivity, The revel of the earth, the masque of Italy.

Venice, Earth, Masque

Lord Byron (2015). “Childe Harold's Pilgrimage”, p.84, Sheba Blake Publishing

Oh! snatched away in beauty's bloom, On thee shall press no ponderous tomb; But on thy turf shall roses rear Their leaves, the earliest of the year.

Flower, Years, Rose

Lord Byron (2013). “Delphi Complete Works of Lord Byron (Illustrated)”, p.329, Delphi Classics

So the struck eagle, stretch'd upon the plain, No more through rolling clouds to soar again, View'd his own feather on the fatal dart, And wing'd the shaft that quiver'd in his heart.

Heart, Clouds, Eagles

George Gordon Byron, “English Bards And Scotch Reviewers: A Satire”

No more we meet in yonder bowers Absence has made me prone to roving; But older, firmer hearts than ours, Have found monotony in loving.

Heart, Roving, Absence

Lord Byron (2013). “Delphi Complete Works of Lord Byron (Illustrated)”, p.67, Delphi Classics

Muse of the many twinkling feet, whose charms are now extending up from legs to arms.

Feet, Ballet, Legs

Here lies interred in the eternity of the past, from whence there is no resurrection for the days - whatever there may be for the dust - the thirty-third year of an ill-spent life, which, after a lingering disease of many months sank into a lethargy, and expired, January 22d, 1821, A.D. leaving a successor inconsolable for the very loss which occasioned its existence.

Lying, Loss, Past

I should like to know who has been carried off, except poor dear me - I have been more ravished myself than anybody since the Trojan war.

War, Seduction, Poor

Father of Light! great God of Heaven! Hear'st thou the accents of despair? Can guilt like man's be e'er forgiven? Can vice atone for crimes by prayer.

Prayer, Father, Men

Lord Byron (2013). “Delphi Complete Works of Lord Byron (Illustrated)”, p.148, Delphi Classics

Mont Blanc is the monarch of mountains; They crown'd him long ago On a throne of rocks, in a robe of clouds, With a diadem of snow.

Clouds, Rocks, Long Ago

Lord Byron (2014). “Manfred”, p.11, Simon and Schuster

There's not a sea the passenger e'er pukes in, Turns up more dangerous breakers than the Euxine.

Ocean, Sea, Dangerous

Lord Byron (2013). “Don Juan”, p.138, Simon and Schuster

There's music in the sighing of a reed; There's music in the gushing of a rill; There's music in all things, if men had ears; The earth is but the music of the spheres.

Music, Men, Ears

George Gordon Byron, “Don Juan: Canto The Fifteenth”

It is singular how soon we lose the impression of what ceases to be constantly before us. A year impairs, a luster obliterates. There is little distinct left without an effort of memory, then indeed the lights are rekindled for a moment - but who can be sure that the Imagination is not the torch-bearer?

Memories, Light, Years

Sorrow preys upon Its solitude, and nothing more diverts it From its sad visions of the other world Than calling it at moments back to this. The busy have no time for tears.

Other Worlds, Solitude, Sorrow

Born: January 22, 1788 - April 19, 1824
Occupation: Baron Byron

Quotes: 589

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