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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

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
The great instrument of moral good is the imagination.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY

Goodness Greatness Imagination Instrument Moral
I love tranquil solitude.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY

Love Myself One Liner Solitude Tranquility
The more we study the more we discover our ignorance.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY

Deep Discover Ignorance Ourselves Study Wisdom
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

Creation God Spirit Understand Universe
Poets are the hierophants of an unapprehended inspiration; the mirrors of the gigantic shadows which futurity casts upon the present.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY

Deep Future Inspirational Mirror Poet Present Shadow
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
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

Death Fear Happiness Hope Ourselves
I love tranquil solitude And such society As is quiet, wise, and good.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY

Goodness Love Myself Quiet Solitude Tranquility Wisdom
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
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

Beautiful Feeling Greatness Life Miracle Nature Wonderful World
Fame, power, and gold, are loved for their own sakes – are worshipped with a blind, habitual idolatry.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY

Fame Gold Idol Love Power Worship
Love withers under constraints: its very essence is liberty: it is compatible neither with obedience, jealousy, nor fear.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY

Essence Fear Jealous Liberty Love Obedience
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

Believe Love Ourselves Place See Soul Wasted
History is a cyclic poem written by time upon the memories of man.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY

History Man Memories Poem Writing
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

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