Quotes by Lord Byron


We are all selfish and I no more trust myself than others with a good motive.
– Lord Byron
A celebrity is one who is known to many persons he is glad he doesn't know.
– Lord Byron
A man of eighty has outlived probably three new schools of painting, two of architecture and poetry and a hundred in dress.
– Lord Byron
A mistress never is nor can be a friend. While you agree, you are lovers; and when it is over, anything but friends.
– Lord Byron
A thousand years may scare form a state. An hour may lay it in ruins.
– Lord Byron
A wise man more than laughter from a dunce.
– Lord Byron
A woman should never be seen eating or drinking, unless it be lobster salad and Champagne, the only true feminine and becoming viands.
– Lord Byron
Absence - that common cure of love.
– Lord Byron
Adversity is the first path to truth.
– Lord Byron
Alas! how deeply painful is all payment!
– Lord Byron
America is a model of force and freedom and moderation - with all the coarseness and rudeness of its people.
– Lord Byron
And yet a little tumult, now and then, is an agreeable quickener of sensation; such as a revolution, a battle, or an adventure of any lively description.
– Lord Byron
As falls the dew on quenchless sands, blood only serves to wash ambition's hands.
– Lord Byron
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.
– Lord Byron
Be thou the rainbow in the storms of life. The evening beam that smiles the clouds away, and tints tomorrow with prophetic ray.
– Lord Byron
Between two worlds life hovers like a star, twixt night and morn, upon the horizon's verge.
– Lord Byron
But - Oh! ye lords of ladies intellectual, inform us truly, have they not hen-pecked you all?
– Lord Byron
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.
– Lord Byron
But words are things, and a small drop of ink,Falling like dew, upon a thought, producesThat which makes thousands, perhaps millions, think.
– Lord Byron
Death, so called, is a thing which makes men weep, And yet a third of life is passed in sleep.
– Lord Byron