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Are we not formed, as notes of music are, For one another, though dissimilar?

Percy Bysshe Shelley

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History is a cyclic poem written by time upon the memories of man.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY

History Man Memories Poem Writing
O, wind, if winter comes, can spring be far behind?
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY

Hard Time Inspirational Spring Struggle Wind
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
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
Strange thoughts beget strange deeds.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY

Action One Liner Result Strange Thinking
Away, 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 SHELLEY

City Man Music Silence Soul Spiritual Wild
When a man marries, dies, or turns Hindu, his best friends hear no more of him.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY

Death Friendship Himself Man Marriage Religion
When 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 SHELLEY

Care Cat Happiness Myself Thinking Way
The great instrument of moral good is the imagination.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY

Goodness Greatness Imagination Instrument Moral
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
There is a harmony in autumn, and a luster in its sky, which through the summer is not heard or seen, as if it could not be, as if it had not been!
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY

Autumn Harmony See Sky Summer Thinking
Worse than a bloody hand is a hard heart.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY

Blood Hands Hard Heart Worst
War is the statesman’s game, the priest’s delight, the lawyer’s jest, the hired assassin’s trade.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY

Game Law Trade War
Are we not formed, as notes of music are, For one another, though dissimilar?
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY

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Poetry lifts the veil from the hidden beauty of the world, and makes familiar objects be as if they were not familiar.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY

Beautiful Hide Poetry World
I have drunken deep of joy, And I will taste no other wine tonight.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY

Deep Drink Joy Taste Tonight Wine

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