Quote

Poets are the hierophants of an unapprehended inspiration the mirrors of the gigantic shadows which futurity casts upon the present the words which express what they understand not the trumpets which sing to battle, and feel not what they inspire the influence which is moved not, but moves. Poets are the unacknowledged legislators of the world.

Percy Bysshe Shelley

Change background

T
T
T

Change font

TAGS & TOPICS

Percy Bysshe Shelley
Age: 29 †
Born: 1792
Born: August 4
Died: 1822
Died: July 8
Linguist
Novelist
Playwright
Poet
Translator
Percy Byssche Shelley
Percy Shelley
Shelli Persi Bish
World
Present
Inspire
Legislators
Upon
Shadow
Shadows
Words
Moved
Poets
Moving
Battle
Moves
Understand
Poet
Casts
Unacknowledged
Feel
Poetry
Mirrors
Futurity
Feels
Influence
Express
Gigantic
Writing
Inspiration
Sing
Trumpets

More quotes by Percy Bysshe Shelley

Image
Kiss me, so long but as a kiss may last!
Percy Bysshe Shelley
Image
I am gone into the fields To take what this sweet hour yields Reflection, you may come to-morrow, Sit by the fireside with Sorrow. You with the unpaid bill, Despair, You, tiresome verse-reciter, Care, I will pay you in the grave, Death will listen to your stave.
Percy Bysshe Shelley
Image
(Title: To the Moon) Art thou pale for weariness Of climbing heaven, and gazing on the earth, Wandering companionless Among the stars that have a different birth,-- And ever-changing, like a joyless eye That finds no object worth its constancy?
Percy Bysshe Shelley
Image
Tragedy delights by affording a shadow of the pleasure which exists in pain.
Percy Bysshe Shelley
Image
True love in this differs from gold and clay, that to divide is not to take away. Love is like understanding, that grows bright, gazing on many truths.
Percy Bysshe Shelley
Image
Lost Echo sits amid the voiceless mountains, And feeds her grief.
Percy Bysshe Shelley
Image
No one has yet been found resolute enough in dogmatizing to deny that Nature made man equal that society has destroyed this equality is a truth not more incontrovertible.
Percy Bysshe Shelley
Image
In a drama of the highest order there is little food for censure or hatred it teaches rather self-knowledge and self-respect.
Percy Bysshe Shelley
Image
Love's very pain is sweet, But its reward is in the world divine Which, if not here, it builds beyond the grave.
Percy Bysshe Shelley
Image
... a wild dissolving bliss Over my frame he breathed, approaching near, And bent his eyes of kindling tenderness Near mine, and on my lips impressed a lingering kiss
Percy Bysshe Shelley
Image
It is easier to suppose that the universe has existed for all eternity than to conceive a being beyond its limits capable of creating it.
Percy Bysshe Shelley
Image
Love is free to promise for ever to love the same woman is not less absurd than to promise to believe the same creed such a vow in both cases excludes us from all inquiry.
Percy Bysshe Shelley
Image
Teas, Where small talk dies in agonies.
Percy Bysshe Shelley
Image
Music, when soft voices die, Vibrates in the memory Odours, when sweet violets sicken, Live within the sense they quicken. Rose leaves, when the rose is dead, Are heap'd for the belovèd's bed And so thy thoughts, when thou art gone, Love itself shall slumber on.
Percy Bysshe Shelley
Image
And many an ante-natal tomb Where butterflies dream of the life to come.
Percy Bysshe Shelley
Image
Peter was dull he was at first Dull - Oh, so dull - so very dull! Whether he talked, wrote, or rehearsed - Still with his dulness was he cursed - Dull -beyond all conception - dull.
Percy Bysshe Shelley
Image
This is Heaven, when pain and evil cease, and when the Benignant Principle, untrammelled and uncontrolled, visits in the fulness of its power the universal frame of things.
Percy Bysshe Shelley
Image
Ere Babylon was dust, The Magus Zoroaster, my dead child, Met his own image walking in the garden, That apparition, sole of men, he saw.
Percy Bysshe Shelley
Image
a single word even may be a spark of inextinguishable thought
Percy Bysshe Shelley
Image
So soon as this want or power [of love] is dead, man becomes the living sepulchre of himself, and what yet survives is the mere husk of what once he was.
Percy Bysshe Shelley