Lord Byron 22 January 1788 – 19 April 1824
British poet and a leading figure in Romanticism
Why worth of being remembered?
Just for the heck of it. As personal opinion he is one hell of a writer,his first love was at the age of 8, he was hurt, and he hurt people. Some say at the end of his life he even fell in love with a 15 years old man, in Greece, but his heart was rejected. Lord byron wrote poems to fall in love and poems to break the spell, and spoke a few of the most beautiful and truthful statements that i have ever heard.
My favorites:
*Quotes
-Lovers may be - and indeed generally are - enemies, but they never can be friends, because there must always be a spice of jealousy and a something of Self in all their speculations.
-A mistress never is nor can be a friend. While you agree, you are lovers; and when it is over, anything but friends.
-Between two worlds life hovers like a star, twixt night and morn, upon the horizon's verge.
-For pleasures past I do not grieve, nor perils gathering near; My greatest grief is that I leave nothing that claims a tear.
-For truth is always strange; stranger than fiction.
-Friendship may, and often does, grow into love, but love never subsides into friendship.
-I do detest everything which is not perfectly mutual.
-I have a great mind to believe in Christianity for the mere pleasure of fancying I may be damned.
-I have great hopes that we shall love each other all our lives as much as if we had never married at all.
-I know that two and two make four - and should be glad to prove it too if I could - though I must say if by any sort of process I could convert 2 and 2 into five it would give me much greater pleasure.
-I only go out to get me a fresh appetite for being alone.
-If I don't write to empty my mind, I go mad.
-In solitude, where we are least alone.
-It is useless to tell one not to reason but to believe - you might as well tell a man not to wake but sleep.
-Let none think to fly the danger for soon or late love is his own avenger.
-Life's enchanted cup sparkles near the brim.
-Love will find a way through paths where wolves fear to prey.
-Man's love is of man's life a part; it is a woman's whole existence. In her first passion, a woman loves her lover, in all the others all she loves is love.
-My turn of mind is so given to taking things in the absurd point of view, that it breaks out in spite of me every now and then.
-Sometimes we are less unhappy in being deceived by those we love, than in being undeceived by them.
-Sorrow is knowledge, those that know the most must mourn the deepest, the tree of knowledge is not the tree of life.
-The 'good old times' - all times when old are good.
-The beginning of atonement is the sense of its necessity.
-The busy have no time for tears.
-The dew of compassion is a tear.
-The great art of life is sensation, to feel that we exist, even in pain.
-The heart will break, but broken live on.
-The poor dog, in life the firmest friend. The first to welcome, foremost to defend.
-There is no instinct like that of the heart.
-There is something pagan in me that I cannot shake off. In short, I deny nothing, but doubt everything.
-They never fail who die in a great cause.
-To withdraw myself from myself has ever been my sole, my entire, my sincere motive in scribbling at all.
-What is the worst of woes that wait on age? What stamps the wrinkle deeper on the brow? To view each loved one blotted from life's page, And be alone on earth, as I am now.
-Who loves, raves.
-Why I came here, I know not; where I shall go it is useless to inquire - in the midst of myriads of the living and the dead worlds, stars, systems, infinity, why should I be anxious about an atom?
-Ye stars! which are the poetry of heaven!
-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.
*Poems
-WHEN WE TWO PARTED
by: George Gordon (Lord) Byron (1788-1824)
HEN we two parted
In silence and tears,
Half broken-hearted
To sever for years,
Pale grew thy cheek and cold,
Colder thy kiss;
Truly that hour foretold
Sorrow to this.
The dew of the morning
Sunk chill on my brow--
It felt like the warning
Of what I feel now.
Thy vows are all broken,
And light is thy fame:
I hear thy name spoken,
And share in its shame.
They name thee before me,
A knell to mine ear;
A shudder comes o'er me--
Why wert thou so dear?
They know not I knew thee,
Who knew thee too well:
Lond, long shall I rue thee,
Too deeply to tell.
I secret we met--
I silence I grieve,
That thy heart could forget,
Thy spirit deceive.
If I should meet thee
After long years,
How should I greet thee?
With silence and tears.
-DARKNESS
by: George Gordon (Lord) Byron (1788-1824)
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,
And men forgot their passions in the dread
Of this their desolation; and all hearts
Were chill'd into a selfish prayer for light:
And they did live by watchfires--and the thrones,
The palaces of crowned kings--the huts,
The habitations of all things which dwell,
Were burnt for beacons; cities were consum'd,
And men were gather'd round their blazing homes
To look once more into each other's face;
Happy were those who dwelt within the eye
Of the volcanos, and their mountain-torch:
A fearful hope was all the world contain'd;
Forests were set on fire--but hour by hour
They fell and faded--and the crackling trunks
Extinguish'd with a crash--and all was black.
The brows of men by the despairing light
Wore an unearthly aspect, as by fits
The flashes fell upon them; some lay down
And hid their eyes and wept; and some did rest
Their chins upon their clenched hands, and smil'd;
And others hurried to and fro, and fed
Their funeral piles with fuel, and look'd up
With mad disquietude on the dull sky,
The pall of a past world; and then again
With curses cast them down upon the dust,
And gnash'd their teeth and howl'd: the wild birds shriek'd
And, terrified, did flutter on the ground,
And flap their useless wings; the wildest brutes
Came tame and tremulous; and vipers crawl'd
And twin'd themselves among the multitude,
Hissing, but stingless--they were slain for food.
And War, which for a moment was no more,
Did glut himself again: a meal was bought
With blood, and each sate sullenly apart
Gorging himself in gloom: no love was left;
All earth was but one thought--and that was death
Immediate and inglorious; and the pang
Of famine fed upon all entrails--men
Died, and their bones were tombless as their flesh;
The meagre by the meagre were devour'd,
Even dogs assail'd their masters, all save one,
And he was faithful to a corse, and kept
The birds and beasts and famish'd men at bay,
Till hunger clung them, or the dropping dead
Lur'd their lank jaws; himself sought out no food,
But with a piteous and perpetual moan,
And a quick desolate cry, licking the hand
Which answer'd not with a caress--he died.
The crowd was famish'd by degrees; but two
Of an enormous city did survive,
And they were enemies: they met beside
The dying embers of an altar-place
Where had been heap'd a mass of holy things
For an unholy usage; they rak'd up,
And shivering scrap'd with their cold skeleton hands
The feeble ashes, and their feeble breath
Blew for a little life, and made a flame
Which was a mockery; then they lifted up
Their eyes as it grew lighter, and beheld
Each other's aspects--saw, and shriek'd, and died--
Even of their mutual hideousness they died,
Unknowing who he was upon whose brow
Famine had written Fiend. The world was void,
The populous and the powerful was a lump,
Seasonless, herbless, treeless, manless, lifeless--
A lump of death--a chaos of hard clay.
The rivers, lakes and ocean all stood still,
And nothing stirr'd within their silent depths;
Ships sailorless lay rotting on the sea,
And their masts fell down piecemeal: as they dropp'd
They slept on the abyss without a surge--
The waves were dead; the tides were in their grave,
The moon, their mistress, had expir'd before;
The winds were wither'd in the stagnant air,
And the clouds perish'd; Darkness had no need
Of aid from them--She was the Universe.
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