War is the statesman’s game, the priest’s delight, the lawyer’s jest, the hired assassin’s trade.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEYWar is the statesman’s game, the priest’s delight, the lawyer’s jest, the hired assassin’s trade.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEYWe look before and after, And pine for what is not; Our sincerest laughter With some pain is fraught; Our sweetest songs are those that tell of saddest thought.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEYThe great instrument of moral good is the imagination.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEYDust to the dust! but the pure spirit shall flow Back to the burning fountain whence it came, A portion of the Eternal.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEYI pant, I sink, I tremble, I expire!
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEYI have drunken deep of joy, And I will taste no other wine tonight.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEYThe young moon has fed Her exhausted horn With the sunset’s fire.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEYSing again, with your dear voice revealing. A tone Of some world far from ours, where music and moonlight and feeling are one.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEYIn fact, truth cannot be communicated until it is perceived.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEYIt is not a merit to tolerate, but rather a crime to be intolerant.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEYWhen my cats aren’t happy, I’m not happy. Not because I care about their mood but because I know they’re just sitting there thinking up ways to get even.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEYHonour sits smiling at the sale of truth.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEYAway, 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 SHELLEYAll love is sweet Given or returned. Common as light is love, And its familiar voice wearies not ever.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEYIf God has spoken, why is the world not convinced.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEYPoets are the hierophants of an unapprehended inspiration; the mirrors of the gigantic shadows which futurity casts upon the present.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY