George Gordon Noel Byron Quotes

The dome of Thought, the palace of the Soul.

The dome of Thought, the palace of the Soul.

That famish'd people must be slowly nurst,
And fed by spoonfuls, else they always burst.

That famish'd people must be slowly nurst,
And fed by spoonfuls, else they always burst.

And angling too, that solitary vice,
What Izaak Walton sings or says:
The quaint, old, cruel coxcomb, read more

And angling too, that solitary vice,
What Izaak Walton sings or says:
The quaint, old, cruel coxcomb, in his gullet
Should have a hook, and a small trout to pull it.

There comes
For ever something between us and what
We deem our happiness.

There comes
For ever something between us and what
We deem our happiness.

But these are foolish things to all the wise,
And I love wisdom more than she loves me;
read more

But these are foolish things to all the wise,
And I love wisdom more than she loves me;
My tendency is to philosophise
On most things, from a tyrant to a tree;
But still the spouseless virgin Knowledge flies,
What are we? and whence come we? what shall be
Our ultimate existence? What's our present?
Are questions answerless, and yet incessant.

Ancient of days! august Athena! where,
Where are thy men of might? thy grand in soul?
Gone--glimmering read more

Ancient of days! august Athena! where,
Where are thy men of might? thy grand in soul?
Gone--glimmering through the dream of things that were;
First in the race that led to glory's goal,
They won, and pass'd away--Is this the whole?

How chang'd since last her speaking eye
Glanc'd gladness round the glitt'ring room,
Where high-born men were read more

How chang'd since last her speaking eye
Glanc'd gladness round the glitt'ring room,
Where high-born men were proud to wait--
Where Beauty watched to imitate.

For I am a weed,
Flung from the rock, on Ocean's foam, to sail,
Where'er the surge read more

For I am a weed,
Flung from the rock, on Ocean's foam, to sail,
Where'er the surge may sweep, the tempest's breath prevail.

Father! no prophet's laws I seek,--
Thy laws in Nature's works appear;--
I own myself corrupt and read more

Father! no prophet's laws I seek,--
Thy laws in Nature's works appear;--
I own myself corrupt and weak,
Yet will I pray, for thou wilt hear.

My days are in the yellow leaf;
The flowers and fruits of love are gone;
The worm, read more

My days are in the yellow leaf;
The flowers and fruits of love are gone;
The worm, the canker, and the grief
Are mine alone!
- Lord Byron (George Gordon Noel Byron),