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George Byron Quotes

English poet.
(1788 - 1821)

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'Tis sweet to know there is an eye will mark our coming, and look brighter when we come.

A drop of ink may make a million think.

A long, long kiss - the kiss of youth and love.

A paler shadow strews its mantle over the mountains; parting day dies like the dolphin, whom each pang imbues with a new color as it gasps away.

A quiet conscience makes one so serene.

A rose with all its sweetest leaves yet folded.

A soldier, a mere tool, a kind of human sword in a fiend's hand; the other is master-mover of this warlike puppet.

A woman who gives any advantage to a man may expect a lover but will sooner or later find a tyrant.

Adversity is the first path to truth. He who hath proved war, storm, or woman's rage, whether his winters be eighteen or eighty, hath won the experience which is deemed so weighty.

Ah! to what gulfs a single deviation from the track of human duties leads!

Alas! the love of women! it is known to be a lovely and a fearful thing; for all of theirs upon that die is thrown; and if 'tis lost, life has no more to bring to them but mockeries of the past alone.

All farewells should be sudden, when forever.

All is to be feared where all is to be lost.

All the fame which ever cheated humanity into higher notions of its own importance would never weigh in my mind against the pure and pious interest which a virtuous being may be pleased to take in my welfare.

All tragedies are ended by death. All comedies are ended by marriage.

All who would win joy, must share it; happiness was born a twin.

Amid 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 to bless us, none whom we can bless; this is to be alone; this, this is solitude.

Be thou the rainbow to the storms of life: the evening beam that smiles the clouds away, and tints tomorrow with prophetic ray.

But mighty nature bounds as from her birth: the sun is in the heavens, and life on earth; flowers in the valley, splendor in the beam, health on the gale, and freshness in the stream.

But words are things, and a small drop of ink, Falling like dew, upon a thought, produces That which makes thousands, perhaps millions, think.

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