Quotes by Lord Byron

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George Gordon (Noel) Byron, 6th Baron Byron (January 22, 1788April 19, 1824) was an Anglo-Scottish poet and leading figure in Romanticism. Among his best-known works are the narrative poems Childe Harold's Pilgrimage and Don Juan. The latter remained incomplete on his death. more

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In her first passion, a woman loves her lover, in all the others all she loves is love.

A mistress never is nor can be a friend. While you agree, you are lovers; and when it is over, anything but friends.
The heart will break, but broken live on.
Like the measles, love is most dangerous when it comes late in life.
But what is Hope? Nothing but the paint on the face of Existence; the least touch of truth rubs it off, and then we see what a hollow-cheeked harlot we have got hold of.
Man's love is of man's life a part; it is a woman's whole existence. In her first passion, a woman loves her lover, in all the others all she loves is love.
The great art of life is sensation, to feel that we exist, even in pain.
My turn of mind is so given to taking things in the absurd point of view, that it breaks out in spite of me every now and then.
Friendship is Love without his wings!
Sorrow is knowledge, those that know the most must mourn the deepest, the tree of knowledge is not the tree of life.
I have always laid it down as a maxim --and found it justified by experience --that a man and a woman make far better friendships than can exist between two of the same sex --but then with the condition that they never have made or are to make love to each other.
All farewells should be sudden, when forever.
In solitude, where we are least alone.
And, after all, what is a lie? 'Tis but the truth in masquerade.
There is no instinct like that of the heart.
Hatred is the madness of the heart.
The busy have no time for tears.
When we think we lead we are most led.
It is useless to tell one not to reason but to believe --you might as well tell a man not to wake but sleep.
I stood among them, but not of them; in a shroud of thoughts which were not their thoughts.
Man, being reasonable, must get drunk; the best of life is but intoxication.
If I don't write to empty my mind, I go mad. As to that regular, uninterrupted love of writing. I do not understand it. I feel it as a torture, which I must get rid of, but never as a pleasure. On the contrary, I think composition a great pain.
All tragedies are finished by a death, all comedies by a marriage.
A woman who gives any advantage to a man may expect a lover -- but will sooner or later find a tyrant.
Think not I am what I appear.
It is very certain that the desire of life prolongs it.
Though I love my country, I do not love my countrymen.
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.
Keep thy smooth words and juggling homilies for those who know thee not.
To have joy one must share it. Happiness was born a twin.
The mind can make substance, and people planets of its own with beings brighter than have been, and give a breath to forms which can outlive all flesh.
The dew of compassion is a tear.
The poor dog, in life the firmest friend. The first to welcome, foremost to defend.
But words are things, and a small drop of ink, falling like dew, upon a thought, produces that which makes thousands, perhaps millions, think.
The power of thought, the magic of the mind.
Lovers may be -- and indeed generally are -- enemies, but they never can be friends, because there must always be a spice of jealousy and a something of Self in all their speculations.
I think the worst woman that ever existed would have made a man of very passable reputation -- they are all better than us and their faults such as they are must originate with ourselves.
We are all selfish and I no more trust myself than others with a good motive.
Where there is mystery, it is generally suspected there must also be evil.
As long as I retain my feeling and my passion for Nature, I can partly soften or subdue my other passions and resist or endure those of others.
The good old times -- all times when old are good.
There is no such thing as a life of passion any more than a continuous earthquake, or an eternal fever. Besides, who would ever shave themselves in such a state?
I really cannot know whether I am or am not the Genius you are pleased to call me, but I am very willing to put up with the mistake, if it be one. It is a title dearly enough bought by most men, to render it endurable, even when not quite clearly made out, which it never can be till the Posterity, whose decisions are merely dreams to ourselves, has sanctioned or denied it, while it can touch us no further.
I have had, and may have still, a thousand friends, as they are called, in life, who are like one's partners in the waltz of this world --not much remembered when the ball is over.
Our thoughts take the wildest flight: Even at the moment when they should arrange themselves in thoughtful order.
Romances I never read like those I have seen.
Let us have wine and women, mirth and laughter. Sermons and soda water the day after.
Life's enchanted cup sparkles near the brim.
The best way will be to avoid each other without appearing to do so -- or if we jostle, at any rate not to bite.
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.
What a strange thing man is; and what a stranger thing woman.
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.
Though sages may pour out their wisdom's treasure, there is no sterner moralist than pleasure.
There is no sterner moralist than pleasure.
The beginning of atonement is the sense of its necessity.
Sincerity may be humble, but she cannot be servile.
Society is now one polished horde, formed of two mighty tribes, the Bores and Bored.
Letter writing is the only device for combining solitude with good company.
Nothing can confound a wise man more than laughter from a dunce.

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