17 Lord Byron Quotes on Culture

Lord Byron quotes on culture

35. The world is a bundle of hay, Mankind are the asses that pull, Each tugs in a different way- And the greatest of all is John Bull!

40. Sublime tobacco! which from east to west Cheers the tar's labor or the Turkman's rest.

46. Hands promiscuously applied, Round the slight waist, or down the glowing side.

49. 'Tis pleasure, sure, to see one's name in print; A book's a book, although there's nothing in 't.

66. Such is the aspect of this shore; 'T is Greece, but living Greece no more! So coldly sweet, so deadly fair, We start, for soul is wanting there.

67. Shrine of the mighty! can it be That this is all remains of thee?

89. When all of genius which can perish dies.

101. The heart ran o'er With silent worship of the great of old! The dead but sceptred sovereigns, who still rule Our spirits from their urns.

108. Besides, they always smell of bread and butter.

109. I love the language, that soft bastard Latin, Which melts like kisses from a female mouth, And sounds as if it should be writ on satin, With syllables which breathe of the sweet South, And gentle liquids gliding all so pat in, That not a single accent seems uncouth, Like our harsh northern whistling, grunting guttural, Which we're obliged to hiss, and spit, and sputter all.

113. By all that 's good and glorious.

117. The 'good old times' - all times when old are good - Are gone.

123. If they had said that the sun or the moon had gone out of the heavens, it could not have struck me with the idea of a more awful and dreary blank in creation than the words: 'Byron is dead!'

     Attribution disputed; shown as originally published.

128. It still saddens me that Lord Byron, who showed such impatience with the fickle public, wasn't aware of how well the Germans can understand him and how highly they esteem him. With us the moral and political tittle-tattle of the day falls away, leaving the man and the talent standing alone in all their brilliance.

133. What helps it now, that Byron bore, With haughty scorn which mocked the smart, Through Europe to the Aetolian shore The pageant of his bleeding heart? That thousands counted every groan, And Europe made his woe her own?

134. The news came to the village - the dire news which spread across the land, filling men's hearts with consternation - that Byron was dead. Tennyson was then about a boy of fifteen. 'Byron was dead! I thought the whole world was at an end,' he once said, speaking of those bygone days. 'I thought everything was over and finished for everyone - that nothing else mattered. I remembered I walked out alone, and carved 'Byron is dead' into the sandstone.'

135. Always looking at himself in mirrors to make sure he was sufficiently outrageous.