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Lord Byron on Christmas

1788–1824 England

← All quotes by Lord Byron

22 quotes

In her first passion woman loves her lover,
In all the others all she loves is love.

The cold in clime are cold in blood,
Their love can scarce deserve the name.

The Giaour (1813)

Eat, drink, and love; the rest's not worth a fillip.

Sardanapalus (1821)

Friendship may, and often does, grow into love, but love never subsides into friendship.

Who loves, raves—'tis youth's frenzy—but the cure
Is bitterer still.

Alas! the love of women! it is known
To be a lovely and a fearful thing!

Maid of Athens, ere we part,
Give, oh give me back my heart!

She knew she was by him beloved,—she knew
For quickly comes such knowledge, that his heart
Was darken'd with her shadow.

The Dream (1816)

Self-love for ever creeps out, like a snake, to sting anything which happens to stumble upon it.

And to his eye
There was but one beloved face on earth,
And that was shining on him.

The Dream (1816)

His heart was one of those which most enamour us,
Wax to receive, and marble to retain:
He was a lover of the good old school,
Who still become more constant as they cool.

Beppo (1818)

Why did she love him? Curious fool!—be still—
Is human love the growth of human will?

Oh Love! young Love! bound in thy rosy band,
Let sage or cynic prattle as he will,
These hours, and only these, redeem Life's years of ill.

Yes, Love indeed is light from heaven;
A spark of that immortal fire
With angels shared, by Allah given
To lift from earth our low desire.

The Giaour (1813)

For the sword outwears its sheath,
And the soul wears out the breast,
And the heart must pause to breathe,
And love itself have rest.

So, We'll Go No More A-Roving (1817)

Friendship is Love without wings.

O! that the Desert were my dwelling place,
With one fair Spirit for my minister,
That I might all forget the human race,
And, hating no one, love but only her!

I only know we loved in vain;
I only feel — farewell! farewell!

Farewell! If Ever Fondest Prayer (1808)

I loved my country, and I hated him.

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.

Attribution

Quotes and notes from Wikiquote: Lord Byron (page history), available under CC BY-SA 4.0.