75 Quotes & Sayings By George Gordon Byron

I have a great mind to believe in Christianity for the mere pleasure of fancying I may be damned. George Gordon Byron

All who joy would win Must share it -- Happiness was born a twin. George Gordon Byron

But words are things, and a small drop of ink,      Falling like dew, upon a thought, produces That which makes thousands, perhaps millions, think;      ’T is strange, the shortest letter which man uses Instead of speech, may form a lasting link      Of ages; to what straits old Time reduces Frail man, when paper – even a rag like this, Survives himself, his tomb, and all that’s his. George Gordon Byron

The lapse of ages changes all things - time - language - the earth - the bounds of the sea - the stars of the sky, and everything 'about, around, and underneath' man, except man himself, who has always been and always will be, an unlucky rascal. The infinite variety of lives conduct but to death, and the infinity of wishes lead but to disappointment. All the discoveries which have yet been made have multiplied little but existence. George Gordon 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 roar: I love not man the less, but Nature more George Gordon 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 roar: I love not Man the less, but Nature more, From these our interviews, in which I steal From all I may be, or have been before, To mingle with the Universe, and feel What I can ne’er express, yet cannot all conceal. George Gordon Byron

The stars are forth, the moon above the tops Of the snow-shining mountains.– Beautiful! I linger yet with Nature, for the night Hath been to me a more familiar face Than that of man; and in her starry shade Of dim and solitary loveliness, I learn'd the language of another world. George Gordon Byron

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 mellow’d to that tender light Which heaven to gaudy day denies. One shade the more, one ray the less, Had half impaired the nameless grace Which waves in every raven tress, Or softly lightens o’er her face; Where thoughts serenely sweet express How pure, how dear their dwelling-place. And on that cheek, and o’er that brow, So soft, so calm, yet eloquent, The smiles that win, the tints that glow, But tell of days in goodness spent, A mind at peace with all A heart whose love is innocent! . George Gordon Byron

When people say, "I've told you fifty times, " / They mean to scold, and very often do; / When poets say, "I've written fifty rhymes, " / They make you dread that they 'II recite them too; In gangs of fifty, thieves commit their crimes; / At fifty love for love is rare, 't is true, / But then, no doubt, it equally as true is, / A good deal may be bought for fifty Louis. George Gordon Byron

But 'why then publish?' There are no rewards Of fame or profit when the world grows weary. I ask in turn why do you play at cards? Why drink? Why read? To make some hour less dreary. It occupies me to turn back regards On what I've seen or pondered, sad or cheery, And what I write I cast upon the stream To swim or sink. I have had at least my dream. George Gordon Byron

I will keep no further journal of that same hesternal torch‐lightâ€â€°; and, to prevent me from returning, like a dog, to the vomit of memory, I tear out the remaining leaves of this volume... George Gordon Byron

The DreamLord ByronOur life is twofold; Sleep hath its own world, A boundary between the things misnamed Death and existence: Sleep hath its own world, And a wide realm of wild reality, And dreams in their development have breath, And tears, and tortures, and the touch of joy; They leave a weight upon our waking thoughts, They take a weight from off waking toils, They do divide our being; they become A portion of ourselves as of our time, And look like heralds of eternity; They pass like spirits of the past -they speak Like sibyls of the future; they have power -The tyranny of pleasure and of pain; They make us what we were not -what they will, And shake us with the vision that's gone by, The dread of vanished shadows -Are they so? Is not the past all shadow? -What are they? Creations of the mind? -The mind can make Substances, and people planets of its own With beings brighter than have been, and give A breath to forms which can outlive all flesh. I would recall a vision which I dreamed Perchance in sleep -for in itself a thought, A slumbering thought, is capable of years, And curdles a long life into one hour.---------- Il sogno Lord ByronDuplice è la nostra vita: il Sonno ha il suo proprio mondo, un confine tra le cose chiamate impropriamentemorte e esistenza: il Sonno ha il proprio mondo, e un vasto reame di sfrenata realtà;e nel loro svolgersi i sogni hanno respiro, e lacrime e tormenti e sfiorano la gioia;lasciano un peso sui nostri pensieri da svegli, tolgono un peso dalle nostre fatiche da svegli, dividono il nostro essere; diventanoparte di noi stessi e del nostro tempo, e sembrano gli araldi dell'eternità;passano come fantasmi del passato, parlanocome Sibille dell'avvenire; hanno potere -la tirannia del piacere e del dolore;ci rendono ciò che non fummo, secondo il loro volere, e ci scuotono con dissolte visioni, col terrore di svanite ombre. Ma sono veramente così? Non è forse tutto un'ombra il passato? Cosa sono? Creazioni della mente? La mente sa crearesostanza, e popolare pianeti, di sua fattura, di esseri più splendenti di quelli mai esistiti, e darerespiro e forma che sopravvivono alla carne. Vorrei richiamare una visione che ho sognatoforse nel sonno, poiché in sé un pensiero, un pensiero assopito, racchiude anni, e in un'ora condensa una lunga vita. . George Gordon Byron

If I could always read I should never feel the want of company. George Gordon Byron

A timid mind is apt to mistake every scratch for a mortal wound. George Gordon Byron

The poor dog, in life the firmest friend, the first to welcome, the foremost to defend. George Gordon Byron

On with the dance! let joy be unconfin'd George Gordon Byron

A woman who gives any advantage to a man may expect a lover -- but will sooner or later find a tyrant. George Gordon Byron

I do not believe in any religion, I will have nothing to do with immortality. We are miserable enough in this life without speculating upon another. George Gordon Byron

But words are things, and a small drop of ink, Falling, like dew, upon a thought produces That which makes thousands, perhaps millions think. George Gordon Byron

I am ashes where once I was fire... George Gordon Byron

Tis to create, and in creating live        A being more intense, that we endow        With form our fancy, gaining as we give        The life we image, even as I do now.        What am I? Nothing: but not so art thou,         Soul of my thought! with whom I traverse earth,         Invisible but gazing, as I glow        Mix'd with thy spirit, blended with thy birth, And feeling still with thee in my crush'd feelings' dearth. George Gordon Byron

Then stirs the feeling infinite, s George Gordon Byron

Where there is mystery, it is generally supposed there must be evil. George Gordon Byron

If I don't write to empty my mind, I go mad. George Gordon Byron

But first, on earth as vampire sent, Thy corse shall from its tomb be rent, Then ghastly haunt thy native place, And suck the blood of all thy race. There from thy daughter, sister, wife, At midnight drain the stream of life, Yet loathe the banquet which perforce Must feed thy livid living corse. Thy victims ere they yet expire Shall know the demon for their sire, As cursing thee, thou cursing them, Thy flowers are withered on the stem. George Gordon Byron

Despair and Genius are too oft connected George Gordon Byron

Many are poets, but without the name; For what is Poesy but to create From overfeeling Good or Ill; and aim At an external life beyond our fate, And be the new Prometheus of new men, Bestowing fire from Heaven, and then, too late, Finding the pleasure given repaid with pain George Gordon Byron

A woman being never at a loss... the devil always sticks by them. George Gordon Byron

Man's love is of man's life a thing apart, ' Tis woman's whole existence. 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. George Gordon Byron

A drop of ink may make a million think. George Gordon Byron

But first on earth as vampire sent Thy corpse shall from its tomb be rent Then gastly haunt thy native place And suck the blood of all thy race George Gordon Byron

I love not man the less, but nature more George Gordon Byron

It is not in the storm or in the strife We feel benumbed and wish to be nor more, But in the after-silence on the shore When all is lost except a little life. George Gordon Byron

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. George Gordon Byron

Time and Nemesis will do that which I would not, were it in my power remote or immediate. You will smile at this piece of prophecy - do so, but recollect it: it is justified by all human experience. No one was ever even the involuntary cause of great evils to others, without a requital: I have paid and am paying for mine - so will you. George Gordon Byron

Sweet to the miser are his glittering heaps, Sweet to the father is his first-born's birth, Sweet is revenge--especially to women George Gordon Byron

For the Angel of Death spread his wings on the blast, And breathed in the face of the foe as he passed; And the eyes of the sleepers waxed deadly and chill, And their hearts but once heaved, and for ever grew still! George Gordon Byron

No more Keats, I entreat: flay him alive; if some of you don’t I must skin him myself: there is no bearing the drivelling idiotism of the Mankin. George Gordon Byron

As soon seek roses in December, ice in June, Hope constancy in wind, or corn in chaff Believe a woman or an epitaph Or any other thing that’s false Before you trust in critics. George Gordon Byron

I know that two and two make four - and should be glad to prove it too if I could - though I must say if by any sort of process I could convert 2 and 2 into five it would give me much greater pleasure. George Gordon Byron

Always laugh when you can, it is cheap medicine. George Gordon Byron

Yet he was jealous, though he did not show it, For jealousy dislikes the world to know it. George Gordon Byron

When a man hath no freedom to fight for at home, Let him combat for that of his neighbours; Let him think of the glories of Greece and of Rome, And get knocked on the head for his labours. To do good to Mankind is the chivalrous plan, And is always as nobly requited; Then battle fro Freedom wherever you can, And, if not shot or hanged, you'll get knighted. George Gordon Byron

Let us have wine and woman, mirth and laughter, Sermons and soda water the day after. Man, being reasonable, must get drunk; The best of life is but intoxication: Glory, the grape, love, gold, in these are sunk The hopes of all men, and of every nation; Without their sap, how branchless were the trunk Of life's strange tree, so fruitful on occasion: But to return-- Get very drunk; and when You wake with head-ache, you shall see what then. George Gordon Byron

The day drags through though storms keep out the sun; And thus the heart will break, yet brokenly live on: Even as a broken mirror, which the glass In every fragment multiplies; and makes A thousand images of one that was, The same, and still the more, the more it breaks; And thus the heart will do which not forsakes, Living in shattered guise, and still, and cold, And bloodless, with its sleepless sorrow aches, Yet withers on till all without is old, Showing no visible sign, for such things are untold. George Gordon Byron

This is to be mortal, And seek the things beyond mortality. George Gordon Byron

The mellow autumn came, and with it came The promised party, to enjoy its sweets. The corn is cut, the manor full of game; The pointer ranges, and the sportsman beats In russet jacket;–lynx-like is his aim; Full grows his bag, and wonderful his feats. Ah, nutbrown partridges! Ah, brilliant pheasants! And ah, ye poachers! –' Tis no sport for peasants. George Gordon Byron