Percy Bysshe Shelley Quotes
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A Christian, a Deist, a Turk, and a Jew, have equal rights: they are men and brethren.
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Dar’st thou amid the varied multitude To live alone, an isolated thing?
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And bid them love each other and be blest: And leave the troop which errs, and which reproves, And come and be my guest, - for I am Love's.
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Away, away, from men and towns, To the wild wood and the downs - To the silent wilderness Where the soul need not repress Its music lest it should not find An echo in another’s mind.
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The breath Of accusation kills an innocent name, And leaves for lame acquittal the poor life, Which is a mask without it.
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There is a harmony in autumn, and a luster in its sky, which through the summer is not heard or seen, as if it could not be, as if it had not been!
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Gold is a living god and rules in scorn, All earthly things but virtue.
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Most musical of mourners, weep again!
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Thou art unseen, but yet I hear thy shrill delight.
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Let there be light! said Liberty, And like sunrise from the sea, Athens arose!
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I weep for Adonais - he is dead! O, weep for Adonais! though our tears Thaw not the frost which binds so dear a head!
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Then, what is Life?
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Chameleons feed on light and air: Poets' food is love and fame.
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Be your strong and simple words Keen to wound as sharpened swords, And wide as targes let them be, With their shade to cover ye.
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Poetry is a mirror which makes beautiful that which is distorted.
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Chastity is a monkish and evangelical superstition, a greater foe to natural temperance even than unintellectual sensuality; it strikes at the root of all domestic happiness, and consigns more than half the human race to misery.
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Thy light alone like mist o'er mountains driven, Or music by the night-wind sent Through strings of some still instrument, Or moonlight on a midnight stream, Gives grace and truth to life's unquiet dream.
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History is a cyclic poem written by time upon the memories of man.
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The One remains, the many change and pass; Heaven's light forever shines, Earth's shadows fly; Life, like a dome of many-coloured glass, Stains the white radiance of Eternity, Until Death tramples it to fragments.
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Man, who wert once a despot and a slave, A dupe and a deceiver! a decay, A traveller from the cradle to the grave Through the dim night of this immortal day.
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Spirit, Patience, Gentleness, All that can adorn and bless Art thou - let deeds, not words, express Thine exceeding loveliness.
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Alas! that all we loved of him should be, But for our grief, as if it had not been, And grief itself be mortal! Woe is me! Whence are we, and why are we? of what scene The actors or spectators?
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The quick Dreams, The passion-winged Ministers of thought.
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A wild dissolving bliss Over my frame he breathed, approaching near, And bent his eyes of kindling tenderness Near mine, and on my lips impressed a lingering kiss.