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Sometimes The Devil is a gentleman.

Percy Bysshe Shelley

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I wish no living thing to suffer pain.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY

Live Myself One Liner Pain Suffering
I love tranquil solitude.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY

Love Myself One Liner Solitude Tranquility
Honour sits smiling at the sale of truth.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY

Honor One Liner Smile Truth
I love snow, snow, and all the forms of radiant frost.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY

Love Myself Radiance Snow
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.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY

Death Fear Happiness Hope Ourselves
Man who man would be, must rule the empire of himself.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY

Himself Kingdom Man Rule
Fate, Time, Occasion, Chance, and Change? To these All things are subject but eternal love.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY

Chance Change Fate Forever Love Time
Poetry is a sword of lightning, ever unsheathed, which consumes the scabbard that would contain it.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY

Consumption Light Poet Poetry Power
Are we not formed, as notes of music are, For one another, though dissimilar?
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY

Build Music Oneself Togetherness
Music, when soft voices die Vibrates in the memory.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY

Death Memories Music Soft Vibration Voice
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

Blood Disguise Excitement Hate Horror Preparation Soft Tolerance
The pleasure that is in sorrow is sweeter than the pleasure of pleasure itself.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY

Happiness Sorrow Sweet
Strange thoughts beget strange deeds.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY

Action One Liner Result Strange Thinking
Joy, once lost, is pain.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY

Joy Lost Pain
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.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY

Laughter Myself Rain Thunder Travel
Poets are the hierophants of an unapprehended inspiration; the mirrors of the gigantic shadows which futurity casts upon the present.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY

Deep Future Inspirational Mirror Poet Present Shadow

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