Quotes About Byron

Yet Byron never made tea as you do, who fill the pot so that when you put the lid on the tea spills over. There is a brown pool on the table--it is running among your books and papers. Now you mop it up, clumsily, with your pocket-hankerchief. You then stuff your hankerchief back into your pocket--that is not Byron; that is so essentially you that if I think of you in twenty years' time, when we are both famous, gouty and intolerable, it will be by that scene: and if you are dead, I shall weep.

And that sarcastic levity of tongue, The stinging of a heart the world hath stung...

Byron is an atheist and does not believe in life after death. We are haunted by ourselves, he says, and that is enough for any man.

Well, if it's an order," she said on a gentle tease, warmed by his words in spite of herself. "You know, for such a cerebral man, you certainly have powerful physical appetites." His lips curved in a seductive smile. "Of course, I do. I'm a Byron, after all. It's in my blood.

Pero si Shakespeare fue ese inglés capaz de sentir como un meridonial, Byron fue capaz de vivir como un italiano, de reaccionar como un albanés, de morir como un griego.

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

Society is now one polished horde, formed of two mighty tries, the Bores and Bored.

Fools are my theme, let satire be my song.

Society is now one polish'd horde, Form'd of two mighty tribes, the Bores and Bored.

I am so changeable, being everything by turns and nothing long - such a strange melange of good and evil.

The Scene of the Drama is amongst the Higher Alps — partly in the Castle of Manfred, and partly in the Mountains

Oh, bella, admirada España, romántico país ¿Dónde está aquella bandera que Pelayo enarboló?

If I am fool, it is, at least, a doubting one; and I envy no one the certainty of his self-approved wisdom.

Ele é homem – disse Leonie. – O que foi que Byron disse sobre homens e mulheres apaixonados? (…) – "Na vida do homem, o amor é uma coisa à parte; na da mulher, é toda a vida" – citou ele.

Endymion received mostly negative criticism after its release and Keats himself admitted its diffuse and unappealing style. It was damned by many critics, giving rise to Byron's quip that Keats was ultimately "snuffed out by an article", suggesting that he never truly got over the criticism the poem received.

Ze pakte het volgende boek, schudde ermee om te zien of er een briefje in zat en sloeg het open. Trelawny's herinneringen aan Byron en Shelley. Ze sloeg het open en begon te lezen (want het was geen heilig exemplaar, geen zeldzaamheid, maar gedateerd Londen, 1932). Trelawny? De man die het lichaam van Shelley had verbrand en het hart had bewaard. Ja, die Trelawny. De piraat. Een reus. Ging na de dood van Shelley met Byron naar Griekenland.

America remained a land of promise for lovers of freedom. Even Byron, at a moment when he was disgusted with Napoleon for not committing suicide, wrote an eloquent stanza in praise of Washington.

There is something to me very softening in the presence of a woman, some strange influence, even if one is not in love with them, which I cannot at all account for, having no very high opinion of the sex. But yet, I always feel in better humor with myself and every thing else, if there is a woman within ken.

Deep in my soul that tender secret dwells, Lonely and lost to light for evermore, Save when to thine my heart responsive swells, Then trembles into silence as before. 'The Corsair', Lord Byron (1788–1824)

The cuckoo shows melancholia, not madness. Like Byron, he goes about wailing his sad lot, and now and then dropping an egg into someone else's nest.

When Byron's eyes were shut in death, We bow'd our head and held our breath. He taught us little: but our soul Had felt him like the thunder's roll.

Cripples are not the stuff of romance. Only Lord Byron, dragging his club foot, springs to mind as an exception to the rule, but such a failing in a man is regarded as interesting, even provocative, rather than disfiguring. Women must submit to a more exacting measure.

In her will, Lady Caroline bequeathed Lady Morgan the picture of Byron that she had coveted since the days of her first stormy separation from the poet who had inspired her to become that marvelous thing: a lady writer.

The Pilgrim of Eternity [Lord Byron], whose fameOver his living head like heaven is bent,An early but enduring monument,Came, veiling all the lightnings of his songIn sorrow.