Over 40,000 Famous Quotes Sorted By Topic and Author

An infant when it gazes on a light, A child the moment when it drains the breast, A devotee when soars the Host in sight, An Arab with a stranger for a guest, A sailor when the prize has struck in fight, A miser filling his most hoarded chest, Feel rapture; but not such true joy are reaping As they who watch o'er what they love while sleeping.

There's not a joy the world can give like that it takes away. - Lord Byron ,

The drying up a single tear has more of honest fame than shedding seas of gore.

Come, lay thy head upon my breast, And I will kiss thee into rest.

A long, long kiss, a kiss of youth, and love.

When age chills the blood, when our pleasures are past-- For years fleet away with the wings of the dove-- The dearest remembrance will still be the last, Our sweetest memorial the first kiss of love.

The tree of knowledge is not that of life.

Knowledge is not happiness, and science But an exchange of ignorance for that Which is another kind of ignorance.

Such hath it been--shall be--beneath the sun The many still must labour for the one.

And if I laugh at any mortal thing, 'Tis that I may not weep.

And if I laugh at any mortal thing, 'Tis that I may not weep.

The law of heaven and earth is life for life.

And when we think we lead, we are most led.

The languages, especially the dead, The sciences, and most of all the abstruse, The arts, at least all such as could be said To be the most remote from common use, In all these he was much and deeply read.

Letter writing is the only device for combining solitude with good company.

Eternal Spirit of the chainless Mind! Brightest in dungeons, Liberty! thou art, For there thy habitation is the heart-- The heart which love of thee alone can bind; And when thy sons to fetters are consign'd-- To fetters and damp vault's dayless gloom, Their country conquers with their martyrdom. - Lord Byron ,

I love the language, that soft bastard Latin, Which melts like kisses from a female mouth.

But yet she listen'd--'tis enough-- Who listens once will listen twice; Her heart, be sure, is not of ice, And one refusal no rebuff.

I am never long, even in the society of her I love, without yearning for the company of my lamp and my library.

A mighty mass of brick, and smoke, and shipping, Dirty and dusty, but as wide as eye Could reach, with here and there a sail just skipping In sight, then lost amidst the forestry Of masts; a wilderness of steeples peeping On tiptoe through their sea-coal canopy; A huge, dun cupola, like a foolscap crown On a fool's head--and there is London Town.