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When a man marries, dies, or turns Hindu, his best friends hear no more of him.

Percy Bysshe Shelley

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Death Friendship Himself Man Marriage Religion

Bagwalas

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Marilyn Monroe Paulo Coelho Abraham Lincoln C. S. Lewis Khalil Gibran Charlie Chaplin Gautama Buddha Isaac Newton

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
Love’s very pain is sweet.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY

Love One Liner Pain Sweet
All of us who are worth anything, spend our manhood in unlearning the follies, or expiating the mistakes of our youth.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY

Learning Man Mistake Ourselves Worth Youth
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
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
Poetry is a sword of lightning, ever unsheathed, which consumes the scabbard that would contain it.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY

Consumption Light Poet Poetry Power
If a person’s religious ideas correspond not with your own, love him nevertheless.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY

Himself Ideas Love Person Religious
It is only by softening and disguising dead flesh by culinary preparation that it is rendered susceptible of mastication or digestion, and that the sight of its bloody juices and raw horror does not excite intolerable loathing and disgust.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY

Blood Disguise Excitement Hate Horror Preparation Soft Tolerance
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
History is a cyclic poem written by time upon the memories of man.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY

History Man Memories Poem Writing
I have been a wanderer among distant fields. I have sailed down mighty rivers.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY

Distance Field Myself River Travel
Joy, once lost, is pain.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY

Joy Lost Pain
Sometimes it’s better to put love into hugs than to put it into words. Soul meets soul on lovers’ lips.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY

Better Lips Love Soul Word
The great instrument of moral good is the imagination.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY

Goodness Greatness Imagination Instrument Moral
O, wind, if winter comes, can spring be far behind?
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY

Hard Time Inspirational Spring Struggle Wind
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

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