The great instrument of moral good is the imagination.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEYSometimes it’s better to put love into hugs than to put it into words. Soul meets soul on lovers’ lips.
More Percy Bysshe Shelley Quotes
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A poet is a nightingale, who sits in darkness and sings to cheer its own solitude with sweet sounds.
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If God has spoken, why is the world not convinced.
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I love snow, snow, and all the forms of radiant frost.
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Nothing in the world is single, All things by a law divine, In one spirit meet and mingle-Why not I with thine?
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Man who man would be, must rule the empire of himself.
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Fame, power, and gold, are loved for their own sakes – are worshipped with a blind, habitual idolatry.
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I love tranquil solitude.
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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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Fear not for the future, weep not for the past.
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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.
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The young moon has fed Her exhausted horn With the sunset’s fire.
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Nothing wilts faster than laurels that have been rested upon.
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Strange thoughts beget strange deeds.
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There is a harmony in autumn, and a luster in its sky, which through the summer is not heard or seen, as if it could not be, as if it had not been!
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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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The man of virtuous soul commands not, nor obeys.
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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.
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Sometimes it’s better to put love into hugs than to put it into words. Soul meets soul on lovers’ lips.
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Sometimes The Devil is a gentleman.
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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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Dust to the dust! but the pure spirit shall flow Back to the burning fountain whence it came, A portion of the Eternal.
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To hearts which near each other move From evening close to morning light,The night is good; because, my love,They never say good-night.
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Love withers under constraints: its very essence is liberty: it is compatible neither with obedience, jealousy, nor fear.
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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?
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Love’s very pain is sweet.
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Poets are the hierophants of an unapprehended inspiration; the mirrors of the gigantic shadows which futurity casts upon the present.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY