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Hell is a city much like London A populous and smoky city.

Percy Bysshe Shelley

Related Topics

City Fame Hell Popular Smoke

Bagwalas

Popular Authors

Marilyn Monroe Paulo Coelho Abraham Lincoln C. S. Lewis Khalil Gibran Charlie Chaplin Gautama Buddha Isaac Newton

Are we not formed, as notes of music are, For one another, though dissimilar?
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY

Build Music Oneself Togetherness
Sometimes it’s better to put love into hugs than to put it into words. Soul meets soul on lovers’ lips.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY

Better Lips Love Soul Word
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

City Man Music Silence Soul Spiritual Wild
The rich have become richer, and the poor have become poorer; and the vessel of the state is driven between the Scylla and Charybdis of anarchy and despotism.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY

Drive Fate Poor Rich Standard
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
I love snow, snow, and all the forms of radiant frost.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY

Love Myself Radiance Snow
This lake exceeds anything I ever beheld in beauty.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY

Appearance Beautiful Lake Myself
The pleasure that is in sorrow is sweeter than the pleasure of pleasure itself.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY

Happiness Sorrow Sweet
I have made my bed In charnels and on coffins, where black death Keeps record of the trophies won.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY

Bed Black Death Myself Reward Win
Fear not for the future, weep not for the past.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY

Cry Fear Future Past
The man of virtuous soul commands not, nor obeys.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY

Command Man Obey Soul Virtue
Life may change, but it may fly not; Hope may vanish, but can die not; Truth be veiled, but still it burneth; Love repulsed, – but it returneth!
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY

Change Death Fly Hope Life Return Truth
History is a cyclic poem written by time upon the memories of man.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY

History Man Memories Poem Writing
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

Breathe Bright Dreams Night Shine Sleep Stars
I wish no living thing to suffer pain.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY

Live Myself One Liner Pain Suffering
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

Darkness Dreams Earth Fair Feeling Flower Garden Love Rest Rose Spirit

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