Sometimes it’s better to put love into hugs than to put it into words. Soul meets soul on lovers’ lips.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEYA 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.
More Percy Bysshe Shelley Quotes
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And Spring arose on the garden fair, Like the Spirit of Love felt everywhere; And each flower and herb on Earth’s dark breast rose from the dreams of its wintry rest.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY -
When a man marries, dies, or turns Hindu, his best friends hear no more of him.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY -
Music, when soft voices die Vibrates in the memory.
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 -
Poetry is a sword of lightning, ever unsheathed, which consumes the scabbard that would contain it.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY -
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.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY -
Only nature knows how to justly proportion to the fault the punishment it deserves.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY -
There is a harmony in autumn, and a luster in its sky, which through the summer is not heard or seen, as if it could not be, as if it had not been!
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY -
If a person’s religious ideas correspond not with your own, love him nevertheless.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY -
Dust to the dust! but the pure spirit shall flow Back to the burning fountain whence it came, A portion of the Eternal.
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 -
Familiar acts are beautiful through love.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY -
Soul meets soul on lovers’ lips.
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 -
The pleasure that is in sorrow is sweeter than the pleasure of pleasure itself.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY