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Joy, once lost, is pain.

Percy Bysshe Shelley

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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
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
Poetry is a sword of lightning, ever unsheathed, which consumes the scabbard that would contain it.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY

Consumption Light Poet Poetry Power
History is a cyclic poem written by time upon the memories of man.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY

History Man Memories Poem Writing
Honour sits smiling at the sale of truth.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY

Honor One Liner Smile Truth
I have been a wanderer among distant fields. I have sailed down mighty rivers.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY

Distance Field Myself River Travel
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
Man who man would be, must rule the empire of himself.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY

Himself Kingdom Man Rule
Sing again, with your dear voice revealing. A tone Of some world far from ours, where music and moonlight and feeling are one.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY

Feeling Light Moon Music Oneself Reveal Sing Voice World
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
Then black despair, The shadow of a starless night, was thrown Over the world in which I moved alone.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY

Alone Black Myself Night Shadow Star World
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
I pant, I sink, I tremble, I expire!
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY

Death Fear Myself Tremble
Strange thoughts beget strange deeds.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY

Action One Liner Result Strange Thinking
I love tranquil solitude.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY

Love Myself One Liner Solitude Tranquility
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

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