I pant, I sink, I tremble, I expire!
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEYAll of us who are worth anything, spend our manhood in unlearning the follies, or expiating the mistakes of our youth.
More Percy Bysshe Shelley Quotes
-
-
I love all waste And solitary places; where we taste The pleasure of believing what we see Is boundless, as we wish our souls to be.
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 -
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.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY -
The man of virtuous soul commands not, nor obeys.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY -
There Is No God. This negation must be understood solely to affect a creative Deity. The hypothesis of a pervading Spirit co-eternal with the universe remains unshaken.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY -
When a man marries, dies, or turns Hindu, his best friends hear no more of him.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY -
I have drunken deep of joy, And I will taste no other wine tonight.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY -
Poets are the hierophants of an unapprehended inspiration; the mirrors of the gigantic shadows which futurity casts upon the present.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY -
The great instrument of moral good is the imagination.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY -
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.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY -
Poets, not otherwise than philosophers, painters, sculptors, and musicians, are, in one sense, the creators, and, in another, the creations, of their age.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY -
Man who man would be, must rule the empire of himself.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY -
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.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY -
The jealous keys of truth’s eternal doors.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY -
The howl of self-interest is loud but the heart is black which throbs solely to its note.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY