A sensitive plant in a garden grew, And the young winds fed it with silver dew, And it opened its fan like leaves to the light, and closed them beneath the kisses of night.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEYWords are but holy as the deeds they cover.
More Percy Bysshe Shelley Quotes
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I pant, I sink, I tremble, I expire!
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Soul meets soul on lovers’ lips.
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See the mountains kiss high Heaven And the waves clasp one another; No sister-flower would be forgiven If it disdained its brother; And the sunlight clasps the earth, And the moonbeams kiss the sea – What is all this sweet work worth If thou kiss not me?
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Familiar acts are beautiful through love.
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I love tranquil solitude And such society As is quiet, wise, and good.
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Man who man would be, must rule the empire of himself.
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The jealous keys of truth’s eternal doors.
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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.
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Fear not for the future, weep not for the past.
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All love is sweet Given or returned. Common as light is love, And its familiar voice wearies not ever.
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I wish no living thing to suffer pain.
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Strange thoughts beget strange deeds.
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I love snow, snow, and all the forms of radiant frost.
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The more we study the more we discover our ignorance.
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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.
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When the lamp is shattered The light in the dust lies dead – When the cloud is scattered The rainbow’s glory is shed.
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A single word even may be a spark of inextinguishable thought.
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Are we not formed, as notes of music are, For one another, though dissimilar?
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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.
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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.
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Worse than a bloody hand is a hard heart.
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Heaven’s ebon vault Studded with stars unutterably bright, Through which the moon’s unclouded grandeur rolls, Seems like a canopy which love has spread To curtain her sleeping world.
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If God has spoken, why is the world not convinced.
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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.
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Words are but holy as the deeds they cover.
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When a thing is said to be not worth refuting you may be sure that either it is flagrantly stupid – in which case all comment is superfluous – or it is something formidable, the very crux of the problem.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY