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Love, from its awful throne of patient power In the wise heart, from the last giddy hour Of dread endurance, from the slippery, steep, And narrow verge of crag-like agony, springs And folds over the world its healing wings.
Percy Bysshe Shelley
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Percy Bysshe Shelley
Age: 29 †
Born: 1792
Born: August 4
Died: 1822
Died: July 8
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Percy Byssche Shelley
Percy Shelley
Shelli Persi Bish
Love
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Wise
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More quotes by Percy Bysshe Shelley
The breath Of accusation kills an innocent name, And leaves for lame acquittal the poor life, Which is a mask without it.
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No more let life divide what death can join together.
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Then black despair, The shadow of a starless night, was thrown Over the world in which I moved alone.
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Thou art Justice ne'er for gold May thy righteous laws be sold As laws are in England thou Shield'st alike the high and low.
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Love's very pain is sweet, But its reward is in the world divine Which, if not here, it builds beyond the grave.
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Jesus Christ represented God as the principle of all good, the source of all happiness, the wise and benevolent Creator and Preserver of all living things. But the interpreters of his doctrines have confounded the good and the evil principle.
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Among true and real friends, all is common and were ignorance and envy and superstition banished from the world, all mankind would be friend.
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To hope till hope creates From its own wreck the thing it contemplates.
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a single word even may be a spark of inextinguishable thought
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Rulers, who neither see, nor feel, nor know, but leech-like to their fainting country cling, till they drop, blind in blood, without a blow, - a people starved and stabbed in the untilled field.
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I consider poetry very subordinate to moral and political science.
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Ah, woe is me! Winter is come and gone. But grief returns with the revolving year.
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As I lay asleep in Italy There came a voice from over the Sea, And with great power it forth led me To walk in the visions of Poesy.
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As long as skies are blue, and fields are green Evening must usher night, night urge the morrow, Month follow month with woe, and year wake year to sorrow
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The most fertile districts of the habitable globe are now actually cultivated by men for animals, at a delay and waste of aliment absolutely incapable of calculation
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The Galilean is not a favorite of mine. So far from owing him any thanks for his favor, I cannot avoid confessing that I owe a secret grudge to his carpentership.
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I have been a wanderer among distant fields. I have sailed down mighty rivers.
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O heart, and mind, and thoughts! what thing do you Hope to inherit in the grave below?
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Worlds on worlds are rolling ever From creation to decay, Like the bubbles on a river Sparkling, bursting, borne away.
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The cemetery is an open space among the ruins, covered in winter with violets and daisies. It might make one in love with death, to think that one should be buried in so sweet a place.
Percy Bysshe Shelley
