History is a cyclic poem written by time upon the memories of man.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEYA poet is a nightingale, who sits in darkness and sings to cheer its own solitude with sweet sounds.
More Percy Bysshe Shelley Quotes
-
-
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 -
Sometimes The Devil is a gentleman.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY -
Honour sits smiling at the sale of truth.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY -
I pant, I sink, I tremble, I expire!
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY -
I have been a wanderer among distant fields. I have sailed down mighty rivers.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY -
Only nature knows how to justly proportion to the fault the punishment it deserves.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY -
Life and the world, or whatever we call that which we are and feel, is an astonishing thing. The mist of familiarity obscures from us the wonder of our being. We are struck with admiration at some of its transient modifications, but it is itself the great miracle.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY -
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.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY -
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.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY -
Man who man would be, must rule the empire of himself.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY -
Fate, Time, Occasion, Chance, and Change? To these All things are subject but eternal love.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY -
The jealous keys of truth’s eternal doors.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY -
All love is sweet Given or returned. Common as light is love, And its familiar voice wearies not ever.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY -
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 -
Music, when soft voices die Vibrates in the memory.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY