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War is the statesman’s game, the priest’s delight, the lawyer’s jest, the hired assassin’s trade.

Percy Bysshe Shelley

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Game Law Trade War

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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
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

Laughter Myself Rain Thunder Travel
Honour sits smiling at the sale of truth.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY

Honor One Liner Smile Truth
Poets, not otherwise than philosophers, painters, sculptors, and musicians, are, in one sense, the creators, and, in another, the creations, of their age.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY

Age Art Artist Creation Music Painting Philosophy Poet
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
Love’s very pain is sweet, But its reward is in the world divine Which, if not here, it builds beyond the grave.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY

Beyond Build Death Deep Divine Grave Love Pain Reward Sweet World
When the power of imparting joy is equal to the will, the human soul requires no other heaven.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY

Equality Heaven Human Joy Power Soul Willing
When a thing is said to be not worth refuting you may be sure that either it is flagrantly stupid – in which case all comment is superfluous – or it is something formidable, the very crux of the problem.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY

Fragrance Problem Stupidity Worth Yourself
Soul meets soul on lovers’ lips.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY

Lips Lover One Liner Relationship Soul Trouble
Music, when soft voices die Vibrates in the memory.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY

Death Memories Music Soft Vibration Voice
The jealous keys of truth’s eternal doors.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY

Door Forever Jealous Key Truth
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
Joy, once lost, is pain.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY

Joy Lost Pain
It is not a merit to tolerate, but rather a crime to be intolerant.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY

Crime Difference Tolerance
When the lamp is shattered The light in the dust lies dead – When the cloud is scattered The rainbow’s glory is shed.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY

Break Death Glory Lie Light
The warm sun is failing, the bleak wind is wailing, The bare boughs are sighing, the pale flowers are dying, And the Year On the earth her death-bed, in a shroud of leaves dead, Is lying.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY

Bed Death Earth Failure Flower Leaving Lying Sun Warm Wind

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