I love tranquil solitude.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEYStrange thoughts beget strange deeds.
More Percy Bysshe Shelley Quotes
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Poetry is a sword of lightning, ever unsheathed, which consumes the scabbard that would contain it.
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O, wind, if winter comes, can spring be far behind?
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Poets are the hierophants of an unapprehended inspiration; the mirrors of the gigantic shadows which futurity casts upon the present.
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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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Honour sits smiling at the sale of truth.
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Love’s very pain is sweet.
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A man, to be greatly good, must imagine intensely and comprehensively; he must put himself in the place of another and of many others; the pains and pleasures of his species must become his own.
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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.
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The pleasure that is in sorrow is sweeter than the pleasure of pleasure itself.
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I pant, I sink, I tremble, I expire!
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In fact, truth cannot be communicated until it is perceived.
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A single word even may be a spark of inextinguishable thought.
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I have made my bed In charnels and on coffins, where black death Keeps record of the trophies won.
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The jealous keys of truth’s eternal doors.
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I love snow, snow, and all the forms of radiant frost.
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Hell is a city much like London A populous and smoky city.
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Love’s very pain is sweet, But its reward is in the world divine Which, if not here, it builds beyond the grave.
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Words are but holy as the deeds they cover.
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Strange thoughts beget strange deeds.
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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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I love tranquil solitude And such society As is quiet, wise, and good.
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When the power of imparting joy is equal to the will, the human soul requires no other heaven.
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I have drunken deep of joy, And I will taste no other wine tonight.
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The howl of self-interest is loud but the heart is black which throbs solely to its note.
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This lake exceeds anything I ever beheld in beauty.
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Love withers under constraints: its very essence is liberty: it is compatible neither with obedience, jealousy, nor fear.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY