Love withers under constraints: its very essence is liberty: it is compatible neither with obedience, jealousy, nor fear.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEYSee the mountains kiss high Heaven And the waves clasp one another; No sister-flower would be forgiven If it disdained its brother; And the sunlight clasps the earth, And the moonbeams kiss the sea – What is all this sweet work worth If thou kiss not me?
More Percy Bysshe Shelley Quotes
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The jealous keys of truth’s eternal doors.
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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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Man who man would be, must rule the empire of himself.
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Government is an evil; it is only the thoughtlessness and vices of men that make it a necessary evil. When all men are good and wise, government will of itself decay.
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Hell is a city much like London A populous and smoky city.
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The more we study the more we discover our ignorance.
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Honour sits smiling at the sale of truth.
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See the mountains kiss high Heaven And the waves clasp one another; No sister-flower would be forgiven If it disdained its brother; And the sunlight clasps the earth, And the moonbeams kiss the sea – What is all this sweet work worth If thou kiss not me?
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY -
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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There is no disease, bodily or mental, which adoption of vegetable diet, and pure water has not infallibly mitigated, wherever the experiment has been fairly tried.
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Worse than a bloody hand is a hard heart.
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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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Are we not formed, as notes of music are, For one another, though dissimilar?
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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.
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The young moon has fed Her exhausted horn With the sunset’s fire.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY






