Lord Byron

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.

Then stirs the feeling infinite, so felt In solitude, where we are least alone.

I only go out to get me a fresh appetite for being alone.

Men think highly of those who rise rapidly in the world; whereas nothing rises quicker than dust, straw, and feathers.

There is no instinct like that of the heart.

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

Though sages may pour out their wisdom's treasure, there is no sterner moralist than pleasure.

If I am fool, it is, at least, a doubting one; and I envy no one the certainty of his self-approved wisdom.

Man is born passionate of body, but with an innate though secret tendency to the love of Good in his main-spring of Mind. But God help us all! It is at present a sad jar of atoms.

I have no consistency, except in politics; and that probably arises from my indifference to the subject altogether.

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.

We are all selfish and I no more trust myself than others with a good motive.

For what were all these country patriots born? To hunt, and vote, and raise the price of corn?

The dew of compassion is a tear.

What should I have known or written had I been a quiet, mercantile politician or a lord in waiting? A man must travel, and turmoil, or there is no existence.

The great art of life is sensation, to feel that we exist, even in pain.

For truth is always strange stranger than fiction.

Opinions are made to be changed - or how is truth to be got at?