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Hatred is the madness of the heart.
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
Hatred
Hate
Heart
Madness
More quotes by 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.
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Eternity forbids thee to forget.
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I have a great mind to believe in Christianity for the mere pleasure of fancying I may be damned.
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May Moorland weavers boast Pindaric skill, And tailors' lays be longer than their bill! While punctual beaux reward the grateful notes, And pay for poems--when they pay for coats.
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Oh Rome! My country! City of the soul!
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Twas twilight, and the sunless day went down Over the waste of waters like a veil, Which, if withdrawn, would but disclose the frown Of one whose hate is mask'd but to assail.
Lord Byron
And gentle winds and waters near, make music to the lonely ear.
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No words suffice the secret soul to show, For truth denies all eloquence to woe.
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My native land, good night!
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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.
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Heaven gives its favourites-early death.
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Most glorious night! Thou wert not sent for slumber!
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Though I love my country, I do not love my countrymen.
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He who grown aged in this world of woe, In deeds, not years, piercing the depths of life, So that no wonder waits him.
Lord Byron
Ada! sole daughter of my house and heart.
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What is the worst of woes that wait on age? What stamps the wrinkle deeper on the brow? To view each loved one blotted from life's page, And be alone on earth, as I am now.
Lord Byron
Religion-freedom-vengeance-what you will, A word's enough to raise mankind to kill.
Lord Byron
So sweet the blush of bashfulness, E'en pity scarce can wish it less!
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Not to admire, is all the art I know To make men happy, or to keep them so. Thus Horace wrote we all know long ago And thus Pope quotes the precept to re-teach From his translation but had none admired, Would Pope have sung, or Horace been inspired?
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Let no man grumble when his friends fall off, As they will do like leaves at the first breeze When your affairs come round, one way or t'other, Go to the coffee house, and take another.
Lord Byron
