This lake exceeds anything I ever beheld in beauty.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEYThis lake exceeds anything I ever beheld in beauty.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEYIt 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 SHELLEYOnly nature knows how to justly proportion to the fault the punishment it deserves.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEYSing again, with your dear voice revealing. A tone Of some world far from ours, where music and moonlight and feeling are one.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEYRise 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.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEYAway, away, from men and towns, To the wild wood and the downs, – To the silent wilderness, Where the soul need not repress Its music.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEYThe more we study the more we discover our ignorance.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEYPoetry is the record of the best and happiest moments of the happiest and best minds.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEYThe warm sun is failing, the bleak wind is wailing, The bare boughs are sighing, the pale flowers are dying, And the Year On the earth her death-bed, in a shroud of leaves dead, Is lying.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEYThe psychological and moral comfort of a presence at once humble and understanding-this is the greatest benefit that the dog has bestowed upon man.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEYI arise from dreams of thee In the first sweet sleep of night, when the winds are breathing low, and the stars are shining bright.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEYI have been a wanderer among distant fields. I have sailed down mighty rivers.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEYI wish no living thing to suffer pain.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEYWhen 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 SHELLEYPoetry is a sword of lightning, ever unsheathed, which consumes the scabbard that would contain it.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEYI love tranquil solitude.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY