Percy Bysshe Shelley Quotes
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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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I have drunken deep of joy, And I will taste no other wine tonight.
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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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War is the statesman's game, the priest's delight, the lawyer's jest, the hired assassin's trade.
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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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His fine wit Makes such a wound, the knife is lost in it.
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The seed ye sow another reaps; The wealth ye find another keeps; The robes ye weave another wears; The arms ye forge another bears.
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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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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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If a person's religious ideas correspond not with your own, love him nevertheless. How different would yours have been, had the chance of birth placed you in Tartary or India!
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Last came Anarchy: he rode On a white horse, splashed with blood; He was pale even to the lips, Like Death in the Apocalypse.
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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.
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That orbed maiden with white fire laden, Whom mortals call the moon.
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Hell is a city much like London - A populous and smoky city.
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When my cats aren't happy, I'm not happy. Not because I care about their mood but because I know they're just sitting there thinking up ways to get even.
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If Winter comes, can Spring be far behind?
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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 cemetery is an open space among the ruins covered in winter with violets and daisies. It might make one in love with death, to think that one should be buried in so sweet a place.
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Reason respects the differences, and imagination the similitudes of things.
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Twin-sister of Religion, Selfishness.
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Man's yesterday may never be like his morrow; Nought may endure but Mutability.
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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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Man has no right to kill his brother. It is no excuse that he does so in uniform: he only adds the infamy of servitude to the crime of murder.
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By all that is sacred in our hopes for the human race, I conjure those who love happiness and truth, to give a fair trial to the vegetable system.