More Quotes by Lord Byron
There is music in all things, if men had ears.
The mind can make substance, and people planets of its own with beings brighter than have been, and give a breath to forms which can outlive all flesh.
A timid mind is apt to mistake every scratch for a mortal wound.
Fools are my theme, let satire be my song.
The dew of compassion is a tear.
There is no instinct like that of the heart.
What deep wounds ever closed without a scar? The hearts bleed longest, and heals but to wear That which disfigures it.
Whatsoever thy birth, Thou wert a beautiful thought, and softly bodied forth.
The premises are so delightfully extensive, that two people might live together without ever seeing, hearing or meeting.
This quiet sail is as a noiseless wing To waft me from distraction.