Lord Byron, formally George Gordon Noel Byron, 6th Baron Byron

Byron, formally George Gordon Noel Byron, 6th Baron Byron

British Poet and leading figure in the Romantic Movement

Author Quotes

Yet how much less it were to gain, though thou hast left me free, the loveliest things that still remain, than thus remember thee.

Wives in their husbands' absences grow subtler, And daughters sometimes run off with the butler.

Yet I did love thee to the last, as fervently as thou, who didst not change through all the past, and canst not alter now.

Woman! Experience might have told me, that all must love thee who behold thee: surely experience might have taught thy firmest promises are nought: but, placed in all thy charms before me, all I forget, but to adore thee.

Yet in my lineaments they trace some features of my father's face.

Women hate everything which strips off the tinsel of sentiment, and they are right, or it would rob them of their weapons.

Yet smelt roast meat, beheld a huge fire shine, And cooks in motion with their clean arms bared.

Words are things, and a small drop if ink, Falling like dew upon a thought, produces That which makes thousands, perhaps millions, think.

Yet still there whispers the small voice within, Heard through Gain's silence, and o'er Glory's din; Whatever creed be taught or land be trod, Man's conscience is the oracle of God.

Wordsworth – stupendous genius! Damned fool! These poets run about their ponds though they cannot fish.

Yet Time, who changes all, had altered him in soul and aspect as in age: Years steal Fire from the mind as vigor from the limb; And Life's enchanted cup but sparkles near the brim.

Ye stars! which are the poetry of heaven!

Yet truth will sometimes lend her noblest fires, And decorate the verse herself inspires: This fact, in virtue's name, let Crabbe attest,— Though Nature's sternest painter, yet the best.

Thus, as the stream and ocean greet, with waves that madden as they meet-- Thus join the bands whom mutual wrong, and fate and fury drive along.

Tis strange the mind, that very fiery particle, Should let itself be snuff'd out by an article.

To have joy one must share it. Happiness was born a twin.

Upon her face there was the tint of grief, The settled shadow of an inward strife; And an unquiet drooping of the eye, As if its lid were charged with unshed tears.

We of the craft (poets) are all crazy.

What is the end of Fame? 'tis but to fill A certain portion of uncertain paper: Some liken it to climbing up a hill, Whose summit, like all hills, is lost in vapor: For this men write, speak, preach, and heroes kill, And bards burn what they call their "midnight taper," To have, when the original is dust, A name, a wretched picture, and worse bust.

When Bishop Berkeley said `there was no matter', And proved it - 'twas no matter what he said.

When you come to a roadblock, take a detour.

Who doth not feel, until his failing sight Faints into dimness with its own delight, His changing cheek, his sinking heart confess, The might--the majesty of Loveliness?

Wine cheers the sad, revives the old, inspires the young, makes weariness forget his toil.

Thy day without a cloud bath pass'd, And thou wert lovely to the last; extinguish'd not decay'd! As stars that shoot along the sky Shine brightest as they fall from high.

Tis sweet to hear the watch dogs' honest bark - Bay deep-mouthed welcome as we draw near home; 'Tis sweet to know there is an eye will mark - Our coming and look brighter when we come

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Byron, formally George Gordon Noel Byron, 6th Baron Byron
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British Poet and leading figure in the Romantic Movement