All of us who are worth anything, spend our manhood in unlearning the follies, or expiating the mistakes of our youth.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEYO, wind, if winter comes, can spring be far behind?
More Percy Bysshe Shelley Quotes
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Words are but holy as the deeds they cover.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY -
It is not a merit to tolerate, but rather a crime to be intolerant.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY -
The 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 SHELLEY -
When the lamp is shattered The light in the dust lies dead – When the cloud is scattered The rainbow’s glory is shed.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY -
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.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY -
I pant, I sink, I tremble, I expire!
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 -
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.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY -
Fate, Time, Occasion, Chance, and Change? To these All things are subject but eternal love.
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 -
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.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY -
Heaven’s ebon vault Studded with stars unutterably bright, Through which the moon’s unclouded grandeur rolls, Seems like a canopy which love has spread To curtain her sleeping world.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY -
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.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY -
I love tranquil solitude.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY -
The 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 SHELLEY