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Fame is the thirst of youth.
Lord Byron
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Lord Byron
Age: 36 †
Born: 1788
Born: January 22
Died: 1824
Died: April 19
Autobiographer
Baron Byron
Diarist
Librettist
Lyricist
Military Personnel
Playwright
Poet
Politician
Translator
Writer
London
England
George Gordon Byron
George Gordon Byron
6th Baron Byron
Noel Byron
Xhorxh Bajroni
Bajron
George Gordon
Jerzy Gordon Byron
Pai-lun
Baron Byron George Gordon Byron
6th Baron Byron George Gordon Noel
Byron
George Gordon Byron
Baron Byron
6th Baron Byron George Gordon Byron
George Gordon Noël Byron Byron
Bayrěn
Payrěn
George Gordon By
Thirst
Fame
Youth
Literature
More quotes by Lord Byron
Many are poets, but without the nameFor what is Poesy but to createFrom overfeeling Good or Ill and aimAt an external life beyond our fate,And be the new Prometheus of new men,Bestowing fire from Heaven, and then, too late,Finding the pleasure given repaid with pain
Lord Byron
Now I shall go to sleep. Goodnight.
Lord Byron
Who tracks the steps of glory to the grave?
Lord Byron
Pleasure's a sin, and sometimes sin's a pleasure.
Lord Byron
If we must have a tyrant, let him at least be a gentleman who has been bred to the business, and let us fall by the axe and not by the butcher's cleaver.
Lord Byron
The place is very well and quiet and the children only scream in a low voice.
Lord Byron
Few things surpass old wine and they may preach Who please, the more because they preach in vain
Lord Byron
Then farewell, Horace whom I hated so, Not for thy faults, but mine.
Lord Byron
Are not the mountains, waves, and skies as much a part of me, as I of them?
Lord Byron
I am surrounded here by parsons and methodists, but as you will see, not infested with the mania.
Lord Byron
We are all the fools of time and terror: Days Steal on us and steal from us yet we live, Loathing our life, and dreading still to die.
Lord Byron
The light of love, the purity of grace, The mind, the Music breathing from her face, The heart whose softness harmonised the whole — And, oh! that eye was in itself a Soul!
Lord Byron
O ye! who teach the ingenious youth of nations, Holland, France, England, Germany or Spain, I pray ye flog them upon all occasions, It mends their morals, never mind the pain.
Lord Byron
Parting day Dies like the dolphin, whom each pang imbues With a new colour as it gasps away, The last still loveliest, till-'t is gone, and all is gray.
Lord Byron
Such is your cold coquette, who can't say No, And won't say Yes, and keeps you on and off-ing On a lee-shore, till it begins to blow, Then sees your heart wreck'd, with an inward scoffing.
Lord Byron
Nor all that heralds rake from coffin'd clay, Nor florid prose, nor honied lies of rhyme, Can blazon evil deeds, or consecrate a crime.
Lord Byron
For the Angel of Death spread his wings on the blast, And breathed in the face of the foe as he passed And the eyes of the sleepers waxed deadly and chill, And their hearts but once heaved, and for ever grew still!
Lord Byron
Always laugh when you can. It is cheap medicine.
Lord Byron
Admire, exult, despise, laugh, weep for here There is such matter for all feelings: Man! Thou pendulum betwixt a smile and tear.
Lord Byron
Yet smelt roast meat, beheld a huge fire shine, And cooks in motion with their clean arms bared.
Lord Byron
