George Gordon Noel Byron Quotes

And circumstance, that unspiritual god,
And miscreator, makes and helps along
Our coming evils, with a critch-like read more

And circumstance, that unspiritual god,
And miscreator, makes and helps along
Our coming evils, with a critch-like rod,
Whose touch turns hope to dust--the dust we all have trod.

In Venice, Tass's echoes are no more,
And silent rows the songless gondolier;
Her palaces are crumbling read more

In Venice, Tass's echoes are no more,
And silent rows the songless gondolier;
Her palaces are crumbling to the shore,
And music meets not always now the ear.

Nor all that heralds rake from coffin'd clay,
Nor florid prose, nor honied lies of rhyme,
Can read more

Nor all that heralds rake from coffin'd clay,
Nor florid prose, nor honied lies of rhyme,
Can blazon evil deeds, or consecrate a crime.

Cooped in their winged sea-girt citadel.

Cooped in their winged sea-girt citadel.

A quiet conscience makes one so serene!
Christians have burnt each other, quite persuaded
That all the read more

A quiet conscience makes one so serene!
Christians have burnt each other, quite persuaded
That all the Apostles would have done as they did.

But 'midst the crowd, the hum, the shock of men,
To hear, to see, to feel, and to possess,
read more

But 'midst the crowd, the hum, the shock of men,
To hear, to see, to feel, and to possess,
And roam along, the world's tired denizen,
With none who bless us, none whom we can bless.

When health, affrighted, spreads her rosy wing,
And flies with every changing gale of spring.

When health, affrighted, spreads her rosy wing,
And flies with every changing gale of spring.

Fools are my theme, let satire be my song.

Fools are my theme, let satire be my song.

The truly brave,
When they behold the brave oppressed with odds,
Are touched with a desire to read more

The truly brave,
When they behold the brave oppressed with odds,
Are touched with a desire to shield and save:--
A mixture of wild beasts and demi-gods
Are they--now furious as the sweeping wave,
Now moved with pity; even as sometimes nods
The rugged tree unto the summer wind,
Compassion breathes along the savage mind.

She was a good deal shock'd; not shock'd at tears,
For women shed and use them at their liking;
read more

She was a good deal shock'd; not shock'd at tears,
For women shed and use them at their liking;
But there is something when man's eye appears
Wet, still more disagreeable and striking.