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You should have a softer pillow than my 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
Softer
Pillow
Heart
Love
More quotes by Lord Byron
He who is only just is cruel who Upon the earth would live were all judged justly?
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I die but first I have possessed, And come what may, I have been blessed.
Lord Byron
My heart in passion, and my head on rhymes.
Lord Byron
I speak not of men's creeds—they rest between Man and his Maker.
Lord Byron
...And these vicissitudes come best in youth For when they happen at a riper age, People are apt to blame the Fates, forsooth, And wonder Providence is not more sage. Adversity is the first path to truth: He who hath proved war, storm, or woman's rage, Whether his winters be eighteen or eighty, Has won experience which is deem'd so weighty.
Lord Byron
Near this spot are deposited the remains of one who possessed beauty without vanity, strength without insolence, courage without ferocity, and all the virtues of man, without his vices. This praise, which would be unmeaning flattery if inscribed over human ashes, is but a just tribute to the memory of Botswain, a dog.
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Alas! how deeply painful is all payment!
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 Niobe of nations! there she stands.
Lord Byron
Who tracks the steps of glory to the grave?
Lord Byron
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.
Lord Byron
Pure friendship's well-feigned blush.
Lord Byron
Sleep hath its own world, and the wide realm of wild reality.
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
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
But at sixteen the conscience rarely gnaws So much, as when we call our old debts in At sixty years, and draw the accounts of evil, And find a deuced balance with the devil.
Lord Byron
Eat, drink and love...the rest is not worth a nickel
Lord Byron
Jealousy dislikes the world to know it.
Lord Byron
Our life is two fold Sleep hath its own world, A boundary between the things misnamed Death and existence Sleep hath its own world, And a wide realm of wild reality.
Lord Byron
All Heaven and Earth are still, though not in sleep, But breathless, as we grow when feeling most.
Lord Byron
