Quotes · Skopia

33 quotes

Don Juan · 1824

★ 7.5

Poem

I am ashes where once I was fire.

Lord Byron

1824

★ 7.1

Play · Tragic play

You have deeply ventured; But all must do so who would greatly win.

Lord Byron

1821

★ 7.1

Poem

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.

Lord Byron

Childe Harold's Pilgrimage · 1818

★ 6.9

Poem

Who would be free themselves must strike the blow?

Lord Byron

Childe Harold's Pilgrimage · 1818

★ 5.5

Personal journal

When one subtracts from life infancy (which is vegetation),—sleep, eating, and swilling—buttoning and unbuttoning—how much remains of downright existence? The summer of a dormouse.

Lord Byron

1813

★ 5.3

Poem

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

Lord Byron

Don Juan · 1819

★ 3.9

Poem

Alas! the love of women! it is known To be a lovely and a fearful thing.

Lord Byron

Don Juan · 1819

★ 3.9

Poem

Tis strange,—but true; for truth is always strange; Stranger than fiction.

Lord Byron

Don Juan · 1823

★ 3.9

Poem

Dark-heaving;—boundless, endless, and sublime— The image of Eternity.

Lord Byron

Childe Harold's Pilgrimage · 1818

★ 3.8

Poem

Christians have burnt each other, quite persuaded; That all the Apostles would have done as they did.

Lord Byron

Don Juan · 1819

★ 3.8

Poem

Man, being reasonable, must get drunk; The best of life is but intoxication.

Lord Byron

Don Juan · 1819

★ 3.8

Poem

There's nought, no doubt, so much the spirit calms As rum and true religion.

Lord Byron

Don Juan · 1819

★ 3.8

Poem

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

Lord Byron

Don Juan · 1819

★ 3.8

Poem

I have not loved the world, nor the world me; I have not flattered its rank breath, nor bowed To its idolatries a patient knee.

Lord Byron

Childe Harold's Pilgrimage · 1818

★ 3.7

Poem

Years steal Fire from the mind as vigour from the Limb; And life's enchanted cup but sparkles near the brim.

Lord Byron

Childe Harold's Pilgrimage · 1818

★ 3.7

Poem

Love and marriage rarely can combine, Although they both are born in the same clime; Marriage from love, like vinegar from wine— A sad, sour, sober beverage—by time Is sharpen'd from its high celestial flavour, Down to a very homely household savour.

Lord Byron

Don Juan · 1821

★ 3.7

Poem

Near this spot Are deposited the Remains of one Who possessed Beauty without Vanity, Strength without Insolence, Courage without Ferocity, And all the Virtues of Man without his Vices.

Lord Byron

1808

★ 3.6

Letter

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.

Lord Byron

1815

★ 3.6

Poem

How beautiful is all this visible world! How glorious in its action and itself! But we, who name ourselves its sovereigns, we, Half dust, half deity, alike unfit To sink or soar, with our mix'd essence make A conflict of its elements, and breathe The breath of degradation and of pride.

Lord Byron

1817

★ 3.6

Poem

What is the worst of woes that wait on age? What stamps the wrinkle deeper on the brow? To view each loved one blotted from life's page, And be alone on earth, as I am now.

Lord Byron

Childe Harold's Pilgrimage · 1818

★ 3.6

Poem

Where rose the mountains, there to him were friends; Where rolled the ocean, thereon was his home; Where a blue sky, and glowing clime, extends, He had the passion and the power to roam.

Lord Byron

Childe Harold's Pilgrimage · 1818

★ 3.6

Poem

Oh, talk not to me of a name great in story— The days of our Youth are the days of our glory; And the myrtle and ivy of sweet two-and-twenty Are worth all your laurels, though ever so plenty.

Lord Byron

1830

★ 3.6

Poem

Pleasure's a sin, and sometimes sin's a pleasure.

Lord Byron

Don Juan · 1819

★ 2.2

Poem

Sweet is revenge—especially to women.

Lord Byron

Don Juan · 1819

★ 2.2

Poem

The English winter—ending in July, To recommence in August.

Lord Byron

Don Juan · 1823

★ 2.2

Poem

O Rome! my country! city of the soul!

Lord Byron

Childe Harold's Pilgrimage · 1818

★ 2.1

Poem

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

Lord Byron

Don Juan · 1821

★ 2.1

Personal journal

The best of Prophets of the future is the Past.

Lord Byron

1821

★ 2.1

Poem

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

Lord Byron

Childe Harold's Pilgrimage · 1818

★ 2.0

Poem

While stands the Coliseum, Rome shall stand; When falls the Coliseum, Rome shall fall; And when Rome falls—the World.

Lord Byron

Childe Harold's Pilgrimage · 1818

★ 2.0

Poem

The isles of Greece, the Isles of Greece! Where burning Sappho loved and sung, Where grew the arts of war and peace, Where Delos rose, and Phoebus sprung! Eternal summer gilds them yet, But all, except their sun, is set.

Lord Byron

Don Juan · 1821

★ 2.0

Poem

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.

Lord Byron

She Walks in Beauty · 1815

★ 1.1

Sourced and curated.