Quotes by Lord Byron

“Good but rarely came from good advice”

“When we two parted / In silence and tears,/ Half broken-hearted / To sever for years, / Pale grew thy cheek and cold, / Colder thy kiss;/ Truly that hour foretold / Sorrow to this.”

“And, after all, what is a lie? Tis but the truth in a masquerade”

“If I should meet thee After long years, How should I greet thee? - With silence and tears”

“For truth is always strange; stranger than fiction.”

“I do not believe in revealed religion - I will have nothing to do with your immortality; we are miserable enough in this life, without speculating on another”

“Letter writing is the only device for combining solitude with good company”

“Words are things, and a small drop of ink, falling like dew upon a thought, produces that which makes thousands, perhaps millions, think”

“Death, so called, is a thing which makes men weep: and yet a third of Life is passed in sleep”

“Truth is a gem that is found at a great depth; whilst on the surface of this world, all things are weighed by the false scale of custom”

“Solitude is often the best society”

“What is fame? The advantage of being known by people of whom you yourself know nothing, and for whom you care as little.”

“The poor dog, in life the firmest friend, The first to welcome, foremost to defend, Whose honest heart is still the masters own, Who labours, fights, lives, breathes for him alone, Unhonourd falls, unnoticed all his worth, Denied in heaven the soul he held on earth, While man, vain insect hopes to be forgiven, And claims himself a sole exclusive heaven.”

“For pleasures past I do not grieve, nor perils gathering near; My greatest grief is that I leave nothing that claims a tear.”

“Sweet is revenge - especially to women.”

“We are all selfish and I no more trust myself than others with a good motive.”

“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.”

“I by no means rank poetry high in the scale of intelligence -this may look like affectation but it is my real opinion. It is the lava of the imagination whose eruption prevents an earthquake.”

“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.”

“Oh! there is an organ playing in the street - a waltz too! I must leave off to listen.”