Percy Bysshe Shelley Quotes
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A lovely lady, garmented in light From her own beauty.
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Titles are tinsel, power a corruptor, glory a bubble, and excessive wealth, a libel on its possessor.
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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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And man … no longer now He slays the lamb that looks him in the face, And horribly devours his mangled flesh.
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What softer voice is hushed over the dead? Athwart what brow is that dark mantle thrown? What form leans sadly o'er the white death - bed, In mockery of monumental stone, The heavy heart heaving without a moan?
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Should ever a physician be born with the genius of Locke, I am persuaded that he might trace all bodily and mental derangements to our unnatural habits, as clearly as that philosopher has traced all knowledge to sensation.
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And with glorious triumph, they Rode through England proud and gay, Drunk as with intoxication Of the wine of desolation.
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Nothing wilts faster than laurels that have been rested upon.
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When a thing is said to be not worth refuting you may be sure that either it is flagrantly stupid - in which case all comment is superfluous - or it is something formidable, the very crux of the problem.
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It is only by softening and disguising dead flesh by culinary preparation, that it is rendered susceptible of mastication or digestion; and that the sight of its bloody juices and raw horror does not excite intolerable loathing and disgust.
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Soul meets soul on lovers' lips.
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What if English toil and blood Was poured forth, even as a flood? It availed, Oh, Liberty, To dim, but not extinguish thee.
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Like an unbodied joy whose race is just begun.
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Best and brightest, come away!
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Ere Babylon was dust, The Magus Zoroaster, my dead child, Met his own image walking in the garden. That apparition, sole of men, he saw.
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Kings are like stars - they rise and set, they have The worship of the world, but no repose.
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I think that the leaf of a tree, the meanest insect on which we trample, are in themselves arguments more conclusive than any which can be adduced that some vast intellect animates Infinity.
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We must prove design before we can infer a designer.1
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And like a prophetess of May Strewed flowers upon the barren way, Making the wintry world appear Like one on whom thou smilest, dear.