Quotes by George Byron
All Quotes (55)
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What is poetry, if not creation / from an excess of noble feelings, / or superhuman aspiration / to become' of the new humanity / a new Prometheus who brings fire / from the sky.
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As an epitaph, only the name, I want it: / if clay could not crown me, / I will not ask another glory for its tribute. Only the name I want to be my monument / through him eternal, or dead forever.
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He who knows more suffers more. Isn't the tree of science also the tree of life?
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Even a swarm of insects stings when it comes to defending its right to life.
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If we're going to make mistakes, at least let's do it according to our heart's desire.
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In the devil's quiver there is no better arrow to the heart than the gentle voice.
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It's nice to read old letters because you don't have to answer them anymore.
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It is full of affectionate love, hardened in temptations, but also in bitterness. Unwavering in parting, alien to pride. It's the same - a wonder - forever.
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Women's tears are moving, and men's are molten lead; because tears are a relief for women, but for us, a torture.
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To wipe, with love, a tear of the one who cries, is more precious than to bathe the whole world in blood.
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It is true that at 50, you can rarely count on mutual love, but it is no less true that at this age you can have a lot with only 50 gold coins.
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Kissing between women only symbolizes that they have nothing else to do at that moment.
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Blessed be the days of youth. Through the mists of time, old age fondly remembers them. The old man remembers the sunny mornings of his youth.
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The terrible thing is that we can live neither with women nor without them.
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But no matter how it pretends, it is the dark darkness that betrays the thunderstorm like the black sky. The mouth doesn't make a sound.
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Christians burned each other in the belief that the Apostles would have done the same.
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I don't believe in any religion. I have nothing to do with immortality: we are miserable enough in this life without all the absurd speculations about other lives.
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The way he walks here is beautiful, like the starry night. Shades into light and light into shadows, Szür's face, eyes, smile; It shines so gently towards us, As the wild day never does.
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Among the daughters of Beauty there is none more beautiful to me today; your voice enchants like a serenade on the water.
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I want to run away from myself! I would carry my curse far, but a wild adventurer, the heifer of existence - Thought, is chasing me.
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The roadless multitude is beautiful, my soul exults on the shore alone; there is one company where I do not suffer: the deep sea, where the sea plays the violin. I do not despise people, but I am loyal to nature.
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The scabbard falls from the sword And the breast from the soul, It cannot pant incessantly: The heart needs peace.
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Although emotion burns in the night And the sun turns too soon, We will no longer battle under a moonlit sky.
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To wonder on a cliff above flood and tide, To wander through shady, deep forests, Where the wonders of another world lie, And perhaps no mortal foot has ever set foot, To crawl up the untrodden side of a mountain, Where the wild game of the wilderness brews, And Look down at a foaming waterfall, see: This is not loneliness , - an intimate conversation with the fabulous Country of Nature.
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Can you stifle the voice of your passion, dear? The heavier and heavier the clouds are in the sky, the wilder the thunderstorm breaks out.
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A man's life and love are two, a woman's life and love are one.
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In every sect there are fools and impostors; why should I believe in mysteries that no one understands, just because they were written by people who chose madness as their inspiration and called themselves Evangelicals?
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I am surrounded by ministers and Methodists, but as you will see, they have not inundated me with their mania.
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I don't know anything about religion - at least about its benefits.
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The memory of happiness is no longer happiness, but the memory of pain is still pain.
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Then came the deep, violent sigh, They greedily stole each other's eyes, The face lit up, although there was no reason for it.
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The dog is the most steadfast friend - the first to greet and the bravest to protect.
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For a woman, there is nothing but one: she always loves and always gets ruined.
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Love becomes bitter, wine becomes vinegar - This sobering, astringent drink, When its heavenly flavor disappears, It gnaws the throat with its boring taste.
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