Lord Byron Quotes

That which I am, I am; I did not seek
For life, nor did I make myself.

Love, fame, ambition, avarice — ’tis the same,
Each idle — and all ill — and none the worst — For all are meteors with a different name,
And Death the sable smoke where vanishes the flame.

This is to be alone; this, this is solitude!

Sorrow is knowledge: they who know the most
Must mourn the deepest o’er the fatal truth,
The Tree of Knowledge is not that of Life.

Oh man! thou feeble tenant of an hour,
Debas’d by slavery, or corrupt by power,
Who knows thee well must quit thee with disgust,
Degraded mass of animated dust!
Thy love is lust, thy friendship all a cheat,
Thy smiles hypocrisy, thy words deceit!
By nature vile, ennobled but by name,
Each kindred brute might bid thee blush for shame.

I had a dream, which was not all a dream.
The bright sun was extinguish’d, and the stars
Did wander darkling in the eternal space,
Rayless, and pathless, and the icy earth
Swung blind and blackening in the moonless air;
Morn came and went — and came, and brought no day,

Man. (alone). We are the fools of Time and Terror: Days
Steal on us, and steal from us; yet we live,
Loathing our life, and dreading still to die.
In all the days of this detested yoke — This vital weight upon the struggling heart,
Which sinks with sorrow, or beats quick with pain,
Or joy that ends in agony or faintness — 170
In all the days of past and future — for
In life there is no present — we can number
How few — how less than few — wherein the soul
Forbears to pant for death, and yet draws back
As from a stream in winter, though the chill
Be but a moment’s.

Oh! Many a time and oft had Harold loved, or dream'd he'd loved since Rapture is a dream.

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!

He seems
To have seen better days, as who has not
Who has seen yesterday?

Whate'er
I may have been, or am, doth rest between
Heaven and myself; I shall not choose a mortal
To be my mediator.

The causes that have made me wretched would probably not have discomposed, or, at least, more than discomposed, another. We are all differently organized; and that I feel acutely is no more my fault (though it is my misfortune) than that another feels not, is his. We did not make ourselves, and if the elements of unhappiness abound more in the nature of one man than another, he is but the more entitled to our pity and our forbearance.

LAS TINIEBLAS

Tuve un sueño, que sueño no fue en absoluto;
el brillante sol habíase extinguido y las estrellas
vagaban a oscuras en el espacio eterno,
sin luz y sin sendero y la helada tierra
oscilaba ciega y ennegrecida en el aire sin luna
...
y todos los corazones
se enfriaron en una egoísta plegaria por la luz;
y vivieron junto a hogueras, y los tronos,
los palacios de los reyes coronados, las cabañas,
las moradas de todas las cosas que habitan bajo techo,
fueron quemadas para iluminarse; las ciudades consumiéronse,
y los hombres se juntaron alrededor de sus ardientes casas
para volverse a examinar los rostros;
felices eran aquellos que habitaban dentro del ojo
de los volcanes y de su antorcha montañosa
...
Las frentes de los hombres a la luz que desesperaba,
tenía un aspecto sobrenatural, mientras intermitentes
los rayos los embestían
...
con maldiciones se arrojaban sobre el polvo,
y rechinaban los dientes y aullaban; las silvestres aves temblaban
y aterrorizadas aleteaban en el suelo,
y batían sus inútiles alas; las bestias más salvajes
hacíanse dóciles y medrosas; y las víboras se arrastraban
y retorcíanse entre las multitudes,
sibilantes, pero sin veneno; las mataban para alimentarse.
Y la guerra que durante un instante desapareciese,
volvía a hartarse: la comida se compraba
con sangre y cada uno se saciaba hoscamente aparte,
engullendo en la penumbra: no quedaba amor;
toda la tierra no era sino un pensamiento y éste era muerte
inmediata y sin gloria;
...

Woman! experience might have told me,
That all must love thee who behold thee:
Surely experience might have taught
Thy firmest promises are nought:
But, placed in all thy charms before me,
All I forget, but to adore thee.

He knew himself a villain — but he deem'd
The rest no better than the thing he seem'd;
And scorn'd the best as hypocrites who hid
Those deeds the bolder spirit plainly did.
He knew himself detested, but he knew
The hearts that loath'd him, crouch'd and dreaded too.
Lone, wild, and strange, he stood alike exempt
From all affection and from all contempt