Percy Bysshe Shelley Quotes
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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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Sing again, with your dear voice revealing A tone Of some world far from ours, Where music and moonlight and feeling Are one.
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Poetry lifts the veil from the hidden beauty of the world, and makes familiar objects be as if they were not familiar.
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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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Change is certain. Peace is followed by disturbances; departure of evil men by their return. Such recurrences should not constitute occasions for sadness but realities for awareness, so that one may be happy in the interim.
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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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With hue like that when some great painter dips His pencil in the gloom of earthquake and eclipse.
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Music, when soft voices die Vibrates in the memory.
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All were fat; and well they might Be in admirable plight, For one by one, and two by two, He tossed them human hearts to chew.
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Higher still and higher From the earth thou springest, Like a cloud of fire; The blue deep thou wingest, And singing still dost soar and soaring ever singest.
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Thy words are like a cloud of winged snakes; And yet I pity those they torture not.
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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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Are ye, two vultures sick for battle, Two scorpions under one wet stone, Two bloodless wolves whose dry throats rattle, Two crows perched on the murrained cattle, Two vipers tangled into one.
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Ah, woe is me! Winter is come and gone, But grief returns with the revolving year.
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Revenge is the naked idol of the worship of a semi-barbarous age.
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Thou who didst waken from his summer dreams The blue Mediterranean, where he lay, Lull'd by the coil of his crystalline streams Beside a pumice isle in Baiæ's bay, And saw in sleep old palaces and towers Quivering within the wave's intenser day, All overgrown with azure moss and flowers So sweet, the sense faints picturing them.
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I arise from dreams of thee In the first sweet sleep of night, When the winds are breathing low, And the stars are shining bright.
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On a poet's lips I slept Dreaming like a love-adept In the sound his breathing kept.
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Let me set my mournful ditty To a merry measure; Thou wilt never come for pity, Thou wilt come for pleasure; Pity then will cut away Those cruel wings, and thou wilt stay.
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The soul's joy lies in doing.
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A husband and wife ought to continue so long united as they love each other. Any law which should bind them to cohabitation for one moment after the decay of their affection, would be a most intolerable tyranny, and the most unworthy of toleration.
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The sunlight clasps the earth, And the moonbeams kiss the sea: What are all these kissings worth If thou kiss not me?
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Tragedy delights by affording a shadow of the pleasure which exists in pain.
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And with glorious triumph, they Rode through England proud and gay, Drunk as with intoxication Of the wine of desolation.