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.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEYWar is the statesman’s game, the priest’s delight, the lawyer’s jest, the hired assassin’s trade.
More Percy Bysshe Shelley Quotes
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I wish no living thing to suffer pain.
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When a man marries, dies, or turns Hindu, his best friends hear no more of him.
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Hell is a city much like London A populous and smoky city.
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Honour sits smiling at the sale of truth.
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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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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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History is a cyclic poem written by time upon the memories of man.
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I love tranquil solitude And such society As is quiet, wise, and good.
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The man of virtuous soul commands not, nor obeys.
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I wield the flail of the lashing hail, And whiten the green plains under; And then again I dissolve it in rain, And laugh as I pass in thunder.
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The pleasure that is in sorrow is sweeter than the pleasure of pleasure itself.
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Life may change, but it may fly not; Hope may vanish, but can die not; Truth be veiled, but still it burneth; Love repulsed, – but it returneth!
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Fear not for the future, weep not for the past.
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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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Rise like Lions after slumber In unvanquishable number- Shake your chains to earth like dew Which in sleep had fallen on you Ye are many-they are few.
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Music, when soft voices die Vibrates in the memory.
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Away, away, from men and towns, To the wild wood and the downs, – To the silent wilderness, Where the soul need not repress Its music.
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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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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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I love tranquil solitude.
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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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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.
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Nothing wilts faster than laurels that have been rested upon.
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Fate, Time, Occasion, Chance, and Change? To these All things are subject but eternal love.
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Poets, not otherwise than philosophers, painters, sculptors, and musicians, are, in one sense, the creators, and, in another, the creations, of their age.
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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