Always laugh when you can. It is cheap medicine. - Lord Byron
What men call gallantry and gods adultery Is much more common where the climate's sultry. - Lord Byron
Goodnight - Lord Byron
How sweet and soothing is this hour of calm! I thank thee, night! for thou has chased away these horrid bodements which, amidst the throng, I could not dissipate; and with the blessing of thy benign and quiet influence now will I to my couch, although to rest is almost wronging such a night as this. - Lord Byron
And dreams in their development have breath, And tears, and tortures, and the touch of joy; They leave a weight upon our waking thoughts, They take a weight from off our waking toils, They do divide our being. - Lord Byron
Sweet is revenge - especially to women. - Lord Byron
For the sword outwears its sheath, And the soul wears out the breast, And the heart must pause for breath, And love itself have rest. - Lord Byron
Oh! too convincing - dangerously dear - In woman's eye the unanswerable tear! - Lord Byron
A pretty woman is a welcome guest. - Lord Byron
Opinions are made to be changed - or how is the truth to be got at. - Lord Byron
Man, being reasonable, must get drunk; The best of life is but intoxication. - Lord Byron
I'll publish right or wrong. Fools are my theme, let satire be my song. - Lord Byron
Society is now one polished horde, --- Formed of two mighty tribes, the Bores and Bored. - Lord Byron
Now hatred is by far the longest pleasure; Men love in haste, but they detest at leisure. - Lord Byron
With just enough of learning to misquote. - Lord Byron
But words are things; and a small drop of ink, Falling, like dew, upon a thought, produces That which makes thousands, perhaps millions, think. - Lord Byron
On with the dance! Let joy be undefined! - Lord Byron
All who would win joy, must share it; happiness was born a twin. - Lord Byron
[Poetry] is the lava of the imagination whose eruption prevents an earthquake. - Lord Byron
In the desert a fountain is springing, In the wide waste there still is a tree, And a bird in the solitude singing, Which speaks to my spirit of thee. - Lord Byron
Italia! Oh Italia! thou who hast The fatal gift of beauty - Lord Byron
What is hope? nothing but the paint on the face of Existence; the least touch of truth rubs it off, and then we see what a hollow-cheeked harlot we have got hold of. - Lord Byron