Earl Of Rochester Quotes

I have to speak my mind. Because what is in my mind is always more interesting than what is happening in the world outside my mind.

Cupid and Bacchus my saints are, May drink and love still reign, With wine I wash away my cares, And then to cunt again.

Der vielleicht beste Rat hingegen stammt mutmaßlich vom zweiten Earl of Rochester, einem Lebemann des siebzehnten Jahrhunderts. »Bevor ich heiratete«, soll er gesagt haben, »hatte ich sechs Theorien, wie man Kinder erzieht. Jetzt habe ich sechs Kinder und keine Theorien mehr!«

Then talk not of inconstancy, False hearts, and broken vows; If I, by miracle, can be This live-long minute true to thee, ’Tis all that Heav'n allows.

Ancient person, for whom I All the flattering youth defy, Long be it ere thou grow old, Aching, shaking, crazy, cold; But still continue as thou art, Ancient person of my heart.

I hate the thing is called enjoyment: Besides it is a dull employment, It cuts off all that's life and fire From that which may be termed desire; Just like the bee whose sting is gone Converts the owner to a drone.

Oh, that second bottle, Harry, is the sincerest, wisest, & most impartial downright friend we have, tells us truth of ourselves & forces us to speak truths of others, banishes flattery from our tongues and distrust from our hearts, sets us above the mean policy of court prudence which makes us lie to one another all day for fear of being betrayed by each other at night.

Son of a whore, God damn you! can you tell A peerless peer the readiest way to Hell? I've outswilled Bacchus, sworn of my own make Oaths would fright Furies, and make Pluto quake; I've swived more whores more ways than Sodom's

She is going to be the death of me. “Lucien! You’re not even listening to me, are you? I’m in desperate need of a new valet and you’ve been woolgathering rather than offering suggestions. I daresay you have enough for a decent coat and a pair of mittens by now.” Lucien Russell, the Marquess of Rochester, looked to his friend Charles. They were walking down Bond Street, Lucien keeping careful watch over one particular lady without her knowledge and Charles simply enjoying the chance for an outing. The street was surprisingly crowded for so early in the day and during such foul wintry weather. “Admit it,” Charles prodded. Lucien fought to focus on his friend. “Sorry?” The Earl of Lonsdale fixed him with a stern glare which, given that his usual manner tended towards jovial, was a little alarming. “Where is your head? You’ve been out of sorts all morning.” Lucien grunted. He had no intention of explaining himself. His thoughts were sinful ones, ones that would lead him straight to a fiery spot in Hell, assuming one wasn’t already reserved for him. All because of one woman: Horatia Sheridan. -Charles & Lucien

Like many witty and beautiful young heiresses of the age who had been much prized in town, she found herself out of sorts when removed from her urban milieu, sequestered either to her own family’s estate or to a cold, decrepit house in the middle of the countryside,