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A poet is a nightingale, who sits in darkness and sings to cheer its own solitude with sweet sounds.

Percy Bysshe Shelley

There is no disease, bodily or mental, which adoption of vegetable diet, and pure water has not infallibly mitigated, wherever the experiment has been fairly tried.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY

Body Experiment Fair Mental Purity Sick Try Water
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 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
Love’s very pain is sweet.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY

Love One Liner Pain Sweet
Government is an evil; it is only the thoughtlessness and vices of men that make it a necessary evil. When all men are good and wise, government will of itself decay.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY

Evil Goodness Government Man Necessary Thinking Vice Willing
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
There Is No God. This negation must be understood solely to affect a creative Deity. The hypothesis of a pervading Spirit co-eternal with the universe remains unshaken.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY

Creation God Spirit Understand Universe
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
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
Fear not for the future, weep not for the past.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY

Cry Fear Future Past
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
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
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
I love all waste And solitary places; where we taste The pleasure of believing what we see Is boundless, as we wish our souls to be.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY

Believe Love Ourselves Place See Soul Wasted
I pant, I sink, I tremble, I expire!
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY

Death Fear Myself Tremble

A poet is a nightingale, who sits in darkness and sings to cheer its own solitude with sweet sounds.

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A poet is a nightingale, who sits in darkness and sings to cheer its own solitude with sweet sounds.

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