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Dead scandals form good subjects for dissection.
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
Dead
Form
Good
Dissection
Scandals
Scandal
Subjects
More quotes by Lord Byron
Are not the mountains, waves, and skies as much a part of me, as I of them?
Lord Byron
No words suffice the secret soul to show, For truth denies all eloquence to woe.
Lord Byron
The very best of vineyards is the cellar
Lord Byron
You gave me the key to your heart, my love, then why did you make me knock?
Lord Byron
There is no instinct like that of the heart.
Lord Byron
A timid mind is apt to mistake every scratch for a mortal wound.
Lord Byron
Sleep hath its own world, and the wide realm of wild reality.
Lord Byron
Bologna is celebrated for producing popes, painters, and sausage.
Lord Byron
Like the measles, love is most dangerous when it comes late in life.
Lord Byron
Religion-freedom-vengeance-what you will, A word's enough to raise mankind to kill.
Lord Byron
Though sages may pour out their wisdom's treasure, there is no sterner moralist than pleasure.
Lord Byron
When age chills the blood, when our pleasures are past - For years fleet away with the wings of the dove - The dearest remembrance will still be the last, Our sweetest memorial the first kiss of love.
Lord Byron
The French courage proceeds from vanity
Lord Byron
The keenest pangs the wretched find Are rapture to the dreary void, The leafless desert of the mind, The waste of feelings unemployed.
Lord Byron
Oh, talk not to me of a name great in story The days of our youth are the days of our glory And the myrtle and ivy of sweet two-and-twenty Are worth all your laurels, though ever so plenty.
Lord Byron
Yet I did love thee to the last, As ferverently as thou, Who didst not change through all the past, And canst not alter now.
Lord Byron
Then rose from sea to sky the wild farewell Then shriek'd the timid, and stood still the brave, Then some leap'd overboard with fearful yell, As eager to anticipate their grave.
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 Christian has greatly the advantage of the unbeliever, having everything to gain and nothing to lose.
Lord Byron
But every fool describes, in these bright days, His wondrous journey to some foreign court, And spawns his quarto, and demands your praise,-- Death to his publisher, to him 'tis sport.
Lord Byron
