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This is to be mortal, And seek the things beyond mortality.
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
Mortals
Seek
Beyond
Things
Mortality
Mortal
More quotes by Lord Byron
Tis strange,-but true for truth is always strange Stranger than fiction: if it could be told, How much would novels gain by the exchange! How differently the world would men behold!
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
We have fools in all sects, and impostors in most why should I believe mysteries no one can understand, because written by men who chose to mistake madness for inspiration and style themselves Evangelicals?
Lord Byron
What is Death, so it be but glorious? 'Tis a sunset And mortals may be happy to resemble The Gods but in decay.
Lord Byron
The bright sun was extinguish'd, and the stars Did wander darkling in the eternal space.
Lord Byron
The place is very well and quiet and the children only scream in a low voice.
Lord Byron
Every day confirms my opinion on the superiority of a vicious life, and if Virtue is not its own reward, I don't know any other stipend annexed to it.
Lord Byron
I cannot help thinking that the menace of Hell makes as many devils as the severe penal codes of inhuman humanity make villains.
Lord Byron
Know ye the land where the cypress and myrtle Are emblems of deeds that are done in their clime? Where the rage of the vulture, the love of the turtle, Now melt into sorrow, now madden to crime!
Lord Byron
Then stirs the feeling infinite, so felt In solitude, where we are least alone.
Lord Byron
Tis an old lesson time approves it true, And those who know it best, deplore it most When all is won that all desire to woo, The paltry prize is hardly worth the cost.
Lord Byron
Scion of chiefs and monarchs, where art thou? Fond hope of many nations, art thou dead? Could not the grave forget thee, and lay low Some less majestic, less beloved head?
Lord Byron
There's naught, no doubt, so much the spirit calms as rum and true religion.
Lord Byron
Fills The air around with beauty.
Lord Byron
For through the South the custom still commands The gentleman to kiss the lady's hands.
Lord Byron
For truth is always strange stranger than fiction.
Lord Byron
Where are the forms the sculptor's soul hath seized? In him alone, Can nature show as fair?
Lord Byron
This sort of adoration of the real is but a heightening of the beau ideal.
Lord Byron
None are so desolate but something dear, Dearer than self, possesses or possess'd A thought, and claims the homage of a tear.
Lord Byron
It is useless to tell one not to reason but to believe you might as well tell a man not to wake but sleep.
Lord Byron
