Percy Bysshe Shelley Quotes
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If Winter comes, can Spring be far behind?
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Once, early in the morning, Beelzebub arose, With care his sweet person adorning, He put on his Sunday clothes.
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Familiar acts are beautiful through love.
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Peter was dull; he was at first Dull,-oh so dull, so very dull! Whether he talked, wrote, or rehearsed, Still with this dulness was he cursed! Dull,-beyond all conception, dull.
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Government is an evil; it is only the thoughtlessness and vices of men that make it a necessary evil. When all men are good and wise, government will of itself decay.
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We look before and after, And pine for what is not; Our sincerest laughter With some pain is fraught; Our sweetest songs are those that tell of saddest thought.
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Obscenity, which is ever blasphemy against the divine beauty in life, is a monster for which the corruption of society forever brings forth new food, which it devours in secret.
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Hell is a city much like London - A populous and smoky city.
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Reason respects the differences, and imagination the similitudes of things.
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Good-night? ah! no; the hour is ill Which severs those it should unite; Let us remain together still, Then it will be good night.
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A Sensitive Plant in a garden grew, And the young winds fed it with silver dew, And it opened its fan-like leaves to the light. And closed them beneath the kisses of Night.
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From the haunts of daily life Where is waged the daily strife With common wants and common cares Which sows the human heart with tares.
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The soul's joy lies in doing.
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That orbed maiden with white fire laden, Whom mortals call the moon.
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Our sweetest songs are those that tell of saddest thought.
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I love tranquil solitude, And such society As is quiet, wise, and good; Between thee and me What difference? but thou dost possess The things I seek, not love them less.
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Twin-sister of Religion, Selfishness.
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I met Murder on the way - He had a mask like Castlereagh - Very smooth he looked, yet grim; Seven blood-hounds followed him.
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Twilight, ascending slowly from the east, Entwined in duskier wreaths her braided locks O'er the fair front and radiant eyes of day, Night followed, clad with stars.
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Though we eat little flesh and drink no wine, Yet let's be merry: we'll have tea and toast; Custards for supper, and an endless host Of syllabubs and jellies and mince-pies, And other such ladylike luxuries.
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What is Freedom? - ye can tell That which slavery is, too well - For its very name has grown To an echo of your own.
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Have you not heard When a man marries, dies, or turns Hindoo, His best friends hear no more of him?
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His fine wit Makes such a wound, the knife is lost in it.
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One word is too often profaned For me to profane it; One feeling too falsely disdained For thee to disdain it.