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I have drunken deep of joy, And I will taste no other wine tonight.
Percy Bysshe Shelley
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Percy Bysshe Shelley
Age: 29 †
Born: 1792
Born: August 4
Died: 1822
Died: July 8
Linguist
Novelist
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Percy Byssche Shelley
Percy Shelley
Shelli Persi Bish
Drunken
Tonight
Wine
Taste
Deep
Joy
More quotes by Percy Bysshe Shelley
A dream has power to poison sleep.
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No more let life divide what death can join together.
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To hope till hope creates From its own wreck the thing it contemplates.
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Truth has always been found to promote the best interests of mankind.
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What is Freedom? ye can tell That which slavery is, too well For its very name has grown To an echo of your own.
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The sunlight claps the earth, and the moonbeams kiss the sea: what are all these kissings worth, if thou kiss not me?
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Jealousy's eyes are green.
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... Virtue owns a more eternal foe Than Force or Fraud: old Custom, legal Crime, And bloody Faith the foulest birth of Time.
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Nothing of him that doth fade But doth suffer a sea-change Into something rich and strange
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The world is weary of the past, Oh, might it die or rest at last!
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Sow seed--but let no tyrant reap Find wealth--let no imposter heap Weave robes--let not the idle wear Forge arms--in your defence to bear.
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Music, when soft voices die, Vibrates in the memory Odors, when sweet violets sicken, Live within the sense they quicken.
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O, wind, if winter comes, can spring be far behind?
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A man, to be greatly good, must imagine intensely and comprehensively he must put himself in the place of another and of many others the pains and pleasures of his species must become his own.
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Honour sits smiling at the sale of truth.
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Worse than despair, Worse than the bitterness of death, is hope.
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The everlasting universe of things Flows through the mind, and rolls its rapid waves, Now dark--now glittering--now reflecting gloom-- Now lending splendour, where from secret springs The source of human thought its tribute brings.
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Death will come when thou art dead, soon, too soon.
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Power, like a desolating pestilence, pollutes whatever it touches.
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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?
Percy Bysshe Shelley
