Lord Byron Quotes

The tenor's voice is spoilt by affectation, And for the bass, the beast can only bellow; In fact, he had no singing education, An ignorant, noteless, timeless, tuneless fellow.
Lord Byron

The way to be immortal (I mean not to die at all) is to have me for your heir. I recommend you to put me in your will and you will see that (as long as I live at least) you will never even catch cold.
Lord Byron

There is a pleasure in the pathless woods, There is a rapture on the lonely shore, There is society, where none intrudes, By the deep Sea, and music in its roarI love not Man the less, but Nature more.
Lord Byron

There is no instinct like that of the heart.
Lord Byron

There is something pagan in me that I cannot shake off. In short, I deny nothing, but doubt everything.
Lord Byron

There's naught, no doubt, so much the spirit calms as rum and true religion.
Lord Byron

They never fail who die in a great cause.
Lord Byron

This is the patent age of new inventions for killing bodies, and for saving souls. All propagated with the best intentions.
Lord Byron

This man is freed from servile bands, Of hope to rise, or fear to fall; Lord of himself, though not of lands, And leaving nothing, yet hath all.
Lord Byron

This sort of adoration of the real is but a heightening of the beau ideal.
Lord Byron

Those who will not reason, are bigots, those who cannot, are fools, and those who dare not, are slaves.
Lord Byron

Though sages may pour out their wisdom's treasure, there is no sterner moralist than pleasure.
Lord Byron

'Tis pleasant, sure, to see one's name in print. A book's a book, although there's nothing in 't.
Lord Byron

'Tis very certain the desire of life prolongs it.
Lord Byron

To chase the glowing hours with flying feet.
Lord Byron

To have joy one must share it. Happiness was born a twin.
Lord Byron

To withdraw myself from myself has ever been my sole, my entire, my sincere motive in scribbling at all.
Lord Byron

Truth is always strange, stranger than fiction.
Lord Byron

We are all selfish and I no more trust myself than others with a good motive.
Lord Byron

What a strange thing is the propagation of life! A bubble of seed which may be spilt in a whore's lap, or in the orgasm of a voluptuous dream, might (for aught we know) have formed a Caesar or a Bonaparte - there is nothing remarkable recorded of their sires, that I know of.
Lord Byron

What an antithetical mind! - tenderness, roughness - delicacy, coarseness - sentiment, sensuality - soaring and groveling, dirt and deity - all mixed up in that one compound of inspired clay!
Lord Byron

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

What is the worst of woes that wait on age? What stamps the wrinkle deeper on the brow? To view each loved one blotted from life's page, And be alone on earth, as I am now.
Lord Byron

When one subtracts from life infancy (which is vegetation), sleep, eating and swilling, buttoning and unbuttoning - how much remains of downright existence? The summer of a dormouse.
Lord Byron

When the green woods laugh with the voice of joy, And the dimpling stream runs laughing by; When the air does laugh with our merry wit, And the green hill laughs with the noise of it.
Lord Byron

Where there is mystery, it is generally suspected there must also be evil.
Lord Byron

Who loves, raves.
Lord Byron

Who tracks the steps of glory to the grave?
Lord Byron

Why did she love him? Curious fool - be still - is human love the growth of human will?
Lord Byron

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?
Lord Byron

Yes, love indeed is light from heaven; A spark of that immortal fire with angels shared, by Allah given to lift from earth our low desire.
Lord Byron

Yet, Freedom! yet thy banner, torn, but flying, streams like the thunderstorm against the wind.
Lord Byron

Your letter of excuses has arrived. I receive the letter but do not admit the excuses except in courtesy, as when a man treads on your toes and begs your pardon - the pardon is granted, but the joint aches, especially if there is a corn upon it.
Lord Byron

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