Quotes from George Gordon Byron

And yet, my girl, we weep in vain, In vain our fate in sighs deplore; Remembrance only can remain, But that, will make us weep the more.

Though sluggards deem it but a foolish chase, And marvel men should quit their easy chair, The toilsome way, and long, long leagues to trace, Oh! there is sweetness in the mountain air, And life that bloated Ease can never hope to share.

She loved her lord or thought so, but that love   Cost her an effort, which is a sad toil, The stone of Sisyphus, if once we move   Our feelings 'gainst the nature of the soil. She had nothing to complain of or reprove,   No bickerings, no connubial turmoil; Their union was a model to behold, Serene and noble, conjugal, but cold.

The humblest individual under heaven,   Than might suffice a moderate century through. I knew that nought was lasting, but now even   Change grows too changeable without being new.

But I being fond of true philosophy, Say very often to myself, 'Alas! All things that have been born were born to die, And flesh (which Death mows down to hay) is grass; You've pass'd your youth not so unpleasantly, And if you had it o'er again—'t would pass— So thank your stars that matters are no worse, And read your Bible, sir, and mind your purse.

If I have any fault, it is digression

Now Juan could not understand a word, Being no Grecian; but he had an ear, And her voice was the warble of a bird, ... So soft, so sweet, so delicately clear, That finer, simpler music ne'er was heard; The sort of sound we echo with a tear, Without knowing why - an overpowering tone, Whence Melody descends as from a throne.

There is a commonplace book argument, Which glibly glides from every vulgar tongue When any dare a new light to present: 'If you are right, then everybody's wrong.' Suppose the converse of this precedent So often urged, so loudly and so long: 'If you are wrong, then everybody's right.' Was ever everybody yet so quite?

When we have made our love and gamed our gaming,   Drest, voted, shone, and maybe something more; With dandies dined, heard senators declaiming,   Seen beauties brought to market by the score, Sad rakes to sadder husbands chastely taming,   There's little left but to be bored or bore. Witness those ci-devant jeunes hommes who stem The stream, nor leave the world which leaveth them.

As if her veins ran lightning

but quiet to quick bosoms is a hell.

Let him! He is great but in his greatness he is no happier than we in our conflict! Goodness would not make evil; and what else hath he made? but let him sit on his vast solitary throne, creating worlds to make eternity less burthensome to his immense existence.

Was Juan a recherché welcome guest

This was an easy matter with a man Oft in the wrong, and never on his guard; And even the wisest, do the best they can, Have moments, hours, and days, so unprepared, That you might 'brain them with their lady's fan;' And sometimes ladies hit exceeding hard, And fans turn into falchions in fair hands, And why and wherefore no one understands.

strange, the Hebrew noun which means "I am", The English always use to govern damn.

Hail, Muse! et cetera.

And mine's a bubble not blown up for praise, But just to play with, as an infant plays.

Ah me! what hand can pencil guide, or pen, To follow half on which the eye dilates Through views more dazzling unto mortal ken. Than those whereof such things the bard relates, Who to the awe-struck world unlocked Elysium's gates?

Poetry is a distinct faculty, - it won't come when called, - you may as well whistle for a wind.

But 'tis done—all words are idle— Words from me are vainer still; But the thoughts we cannot bridle 55 Force their way without the will. Fare thee well! thus disunited, Torn from every nearer tie, Sear'd in heart, and lone, and blighted, More than this I scarce can die.

and there the stories Of martyrs awed, as Spagnoletto tainted His brush with all the blood of all the sainted.

In quiet we had learn'd to dwell- Myvery chains and I grew friends, So much a long communion tends- To make us what we are:-even I Regain'd my freedom with a sigh.

And he who lieth there was childless. I have dried the fountain of gentle race.. -Cain

Think how the joys of reading a Gazette Are purchased by all agonies and crimes: Or if these do not move you, don't forget Such doom may be your own in aftertimes.