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I wish no living thing to suffer pain.

Percy Bysshe Shelley

Related Topics

Live Myself One Liner Pain Suffering

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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
Joy, once lost, is pain.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY

Joy Lost Pain
Are we not formed, as notes of music are, For one another, though dissimilar?
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY

Build Music Oneself Togetherness
A single word even may be a spark of inextinguishable thought.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY

Literature Power Thinking Word
This lake exceeds anything I ever beheld in beauty.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY

Appearance Beautiful Lake Myself
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
Soul meets soul on lovers’ lips.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY

Lips Lover One Liner Relationship Soul Trouble
Nothing wilts faster than laurels that have been rested upon.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY

Death Fast Rest
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
The young moon has fed Her exhausted horn With the sunset’s fire.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY

Exhaustion Fed Fire Moon Sun Young
Before man can be free, and equal, and truly wise, he must cast aside the chains of habit and superstition; he must strip sensuality of its pomp, and selfishness of its excuses, and contemplate actions and objects as they really are.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY

Action Equality Freedom Habit Man Object Selfish True Wisdom
A man, to be greatly good, must imagine intensely and comprehensively; he must put himself in the place of another and of many others; the pains and pleasures of his species must become his own.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY

Goodness Greatness Happiness Himself Imagination Intense Man Pain Place
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
A poet is a nightingale, who sits in darkness and sings to cheer its own solitude with sweet sounds.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY

Bird Cheerful Darkness Poet Solitude Sound Sweet
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
Worse than a bloody hand is a hard heart.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY

Blood Hands Hard Heart Worst

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