O, wind, if winter comes, can spring be far behind?
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEYA single word even may be a spark of inextinguishable thought.
More Percy Bysshe Shelley Quotes
-
-
It is not a merit to tolerate, but rather a crime to be intolerant.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY -
Honour sits smiling at the sale of truth.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY -
Man who man would be, must rule the empire of himself.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY -
History is a cyclic poem written by time upon the memories of man.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY -
Hell is a city much like London A populous and smoky city.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY -
All of us who are worth anything, spend our manhood in unlearning the follies, or expiating the mistakes of our youth.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY -
To hearts which near each other move From evening close to morning light,The night is good; because, my love,They never say good-night.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY -
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 -
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 -
I have been a wanderer among distant fields. I have sailed down mighty rivers.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY -
Sing again, with your dear voice revealing. A tone Of some world far from ours, where music and moonlight and feeling are one.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY -
I wield the flail of the lashing hail, And whiten the green plains under; And then again I dissolve it in rain, And laugh as I pass in thunder.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY -
A poet is a nightingale, who sits in darkness and sings to cheer its own solitude with sweet sounds.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY -
Poetry is a sword of lightning, ever unsheathed, which consumes the scabbard that would contain it.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY -
When the power of imparting joy is equal to the will, the human soul requires no other heaven.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY