Quotes from Lord Byron

If I could always read, I should never feel the want of company.

Her great merit is finding out mine - there is nothing so amiable as discernment.

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: Thus mellowed to that tender light Which heaven to gaudy day denies.

Society is now one polished horde, Formed of two mighty tribes, the Bores and Bored.

I am not now That which I have been.

Christians have burned each other, quite persuaded That all the apostles would have done as they did.

Hereditary boundsmen! Know ye not Who would be free themselves must strike the blow?

On with the dance! Let joy be unconfin'd; No sleep till morn, when Youth and Pleasure meet.

I awoke one morning and found myself famous.

Let us have wine and woman, mirth and laughter. Sermons and soda-water the day after.

Fair Greece! sad relic of departed worth! Immortal, though no more; though fallen great!

Nor ear can hear nor tongue can tell The tortures of that inward hell.

I suppose we shall soon travel by air-vessels; make air instead of sea voyages; and at length find our way to the moon, in spite of the want of atmosphere.

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.

One certainly has a soul; but how it came to allow itself to be enclosed in a body is more than I can imagine. I only know if once mine gets out, I'll have a bit of a tussle before I let it get in again to that of any other.

Come, lay thy head upon my breast, And I will kiss thee into rest.

A long, long kiss, a kiss of youth, and love.

A mighty mass of brick, and smoke, and shipping, Dirty and dusty, but as wide as eye Could reach, with here and there a sail just skipping In sight, then lost amidst the forestry Of masts; a wilderness of steeples peeping On tiptoe through their sea-coal canopy; A huge, dun cupola, like a fools-cap crown On a fool's head - and there is London Town.

Thou pendulum betwixt a smile and tear.

He was the mildest manner'd man That ever scuttled ship or cut a throat.

Soprano, basso, even the contralto Wished him five fathom under the Rialto.

For the night Shows stars and women in a better light.

It is the hour when from the boughs The nightingale's high note is heard; It is the hour when lovers' vows Seem sweet in every whisper'd word.

Gone - glimmering through the dream of things that were.