Fame, power, and gold, are loved for their own sakes – are worshipped with a blind, habitual idolatry.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEYIf God has spoken, why is the world not convinced.
More Percy Bysshe Shelley Quotes
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If God has spoken, why is the world not convinced.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY -
Nothing in the world is single, All things by a law divine, In one spirit meet and mingle-Why not I with thine?
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY -
Fear not for the future, weep not for the past.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY -
The warm sun is failing, the bleak wind is wailing, The bare boughs are sighing, the pale flowers are dying, And the Year On the earth her death-bed, in a shroud of leaves dead, Is lying.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY -
First our pleasures die – and then our hopes, and then our fears – and when these are dead, the debt is due dust claims dust – and we die too.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY -
Before man can be free, and equal, and truly wise, he must cast aside the chains of habit and superstition; he must strip sensuality of its pomp, and selfishness of its excuses, and contemplate actions and objects as they really are.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY -
A single word even may be a spark of inextinguishable thought.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY -
Music, when soft voices die Vibrates in the memory.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY -
Hell is a city much like London A populous and smoky city.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY -
The rich have become richer, and the poor have become poorer; and the vessel of the state is driven between the Scylla and Charybdis of anarchy and despotism.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY -
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.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY -
Dust to the dust! but the pure spirit shall flow Back to the burning fountain whence it came, A portion of the Eternal.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY -
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.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY -
I love tranquil solitude.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY -
Are we not formed, as notes of music are, For one another, though dissimilar?
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY