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The pleasure that is in sorrow is sweeter than the pleasure of pleasure itself.

Percy Bysshe Shelley

Related Topics

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I love snow, snow, and all the forms of radiant frost.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY

Love Myself Radiance Snow
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

Comfortable Dog Humble Man Moral Presence
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

Burn Flow Forever Fountain Pure Spirit
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
All love is sweet Given or returned. Common as light is love, And its familiar voice wearies not ever.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY

Light Love Return Voice
Poetry is the record of the best and happiest moments of the happiest and best minds.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY

Best Happiness Mindset Moments Poetry Record
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
The more we study the more we discover our ignorance.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY

Deep Discover Ignorance Ourselves Study Wisdom
Nothing in the world is single, All things by a law divine, In one spirit meet and mingle-Why not I with thine?
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY

Divine Law Myself Spirit World
Our sweetest songs are those that tell of saddest thought.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY

Music Ourselves Sadness Song Sweet Talk Thinking
Poetry is a sword of lightning, ever unsheathed, which consumes the scabbard that would contain it.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY

Consumption Light Poet Poetry Power
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
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

Garden Growth Kiss Light Night Open Plant Wind Young
Then black despair, The shadow of a starless night, was thrown Over the world in which I moved alone.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY

Alone Black Myself Night Shadow Star World
O, wind, if winter comes, can spring be far behind?
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY

Hard Time Inspirational Spring Struggle Wind
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

Earth Fall Rise Sleep Yourself

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