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Oh Rome! My country! City of the soul!
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
Rome
City
Cities
Soul
Country
More quotes by Lord Byron
This man is freed from servile bands, Of hope to rise, or fear to fall Lord of himself, though not of lands, And leaving nothing, yet hath all.
Lord Byron
The premises are so delightfully extensive, that two people might live together without ever seeing, hearing or meeting.
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One hates an author that's all author.
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It is not one man nor a million, but the spirit of liberty that must be preserved. The waves which dash upon the shore are, one by one, broken, but the ocean conquers nevertheless. It overwhelms the Armada, it wears out the rock. In like manner, whatever the struggle of individuals, the great cause will gather strength.
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I die but first I have possessed, And come what may, I have been blessed.
Lord Byron
Man marks the earth with ruin - his control stops with the shore.
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That famish'd people must be slowly nurst, and fed by spoonfuls, else they always burst.
Lord Byron
'Tis sweet to know there is an eye will mark our coming, and look brighter when we come.
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Then farewell, Horace whom I hated so, Not for thy faults, but mine.
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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.
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Grief is fantastical, and loves the dead, And the apparel of the grave.
Lord Byron
I live not in myself, but I become Portion of that around me: and to me High mountains are a feeling, but the hum of human cities torture.
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
Yon Sun that sets upon the sea We follow in his flight Farewell awhile to him and thee, My native land-Good Night!
Lord Byron
My heart in passion, and my head on rhymes.
Lord Byron
Ada! sole daughter of my house and heart.
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Earth! render back from out thy breast A remnant of our Spartan dead! Of the three hundred grant but three, To make a new Thermopylæ!
Lord Byron
Which cheers the sad, revives the old, inspires The young, makes Weariness forget his toil, And Fear her danger opens a new world When this, the present, palls.
Lord Byron
Like the measles, love is most dangerous when it comes late in life.
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Do proper homage to thine idol's eyes But no too humbly, or she will despise Thee and thy suit, though told in moving tropes: Disguise even tenderness if thou art wise.
Lord Byron
