Quotessence
Home / Quotes / Quote by Lord Byron

Quote by Lord Byron

“Love bears within its breast the very germ Of change; and how should this be otherwise? That violent things more quickly find a term Is shown through nature’s whole analogies; And how should the most fierce of all be firm? Would you have endless lightning in the skies? Methinks Love’s very title says enough: How should the tender passion e’er be tough?”

Quote by Lord Byron

Work

DON JUAN

Lord Byron's Don Juan is a sprawling epic poem written in ottava rima, composed over several years until the author's death. Unlike traditional portrayals of Don Juan as a predatory seducer, Byron's protagonist is depicted as a handsome but largely unwitting figure who is seduced by others and drifts through a variety of amorous and picaresque encounters. The poem blends comedy, romance, and sharp social satire, targeting hypocrisy in politics, religion, and society. It ranges across settings from Spain to Greece, Turkey, Russia, and England, offering a panoramic view of early 19th-century European mores. The work is noted for its digressive style, witty narrator, and irreverent tone, and it remains one of the most celebrated examples of Romantic satire. more

Author

Lord Byron
Lord Byron

Lord Byron, born on January 22, 1788, and died on April 19, 1824, was a prominent English Romantic poet. His poetry is characterized by its strong personality and passion, and has had a profound impact on literature. more

You May Also Like

“That’s it; that’s how it is; everyone standing around as if just out of the pool, drying off, standing around, that’s it, standing, talking, shuffling back and forth on the deck of the present before the boat slowly pulls away into the future. Because it hurts to say goodbye, to pull your body out of the warm water; to step out of the pocket of safety, clinging to what you knew, or what you thought you knew about yourself and others.”

“There's a place between two stands of trees where the grass grows uphill and the old revolutionary road breaks off into shadows near a meeting-house abandoned by the persecuted who disappeared into those shadows. I've walked there picking mushrooms at the edge of dread, but don't be fooled this isn't a Russian poem, this is not somewhere else but here, our country moving closer to its own truth and dread, its own ways of making people disappear.”