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And Spring arose on the garden fair, Like the Spirit of Love felt everywhere And each flower and herb on Earth's dark breast rose from the dreams of its wintry rest.

Percy Bysshe Shelley

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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
Nature
Spring
April
Dream
Flower
Breast
Earth
Dreams
Breasts
Love
Rest
Fairs
Wintry
Like
Dark
Fair
Herb
Inspirational
Everywhere
Arose
Felt
Rose
Herbs
Spirit
Garden
Springtime

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The great secret of morals is Love or a going out of our own nature, and an identification of ourselves with the beautiful which exists in thought, action, or person, not our own.
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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.
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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.
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Let there be light! Said Liberty , And like sunrise from the sea, Athens arose!
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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.
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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.
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Ah, woe is me! Winter is come and gone. But grief returns with the revolving year.
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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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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.
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Chameleons feed on light and air: Poets food is love and fame.
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Power, like a desolating pestilence, Pollutes whate'er it touches and obedience, Bane of all genius, virtue, freedom, truth, Makes slaves of men, and of the human frame A mechanized automaton.
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All love is sweet, given or received.
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Think ye by gazing on each other's eyes To multiply your lovely selves?
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For there are deeds which have no form, sufferings which have no tongue.
Percy Bysshe Shelley
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But hope will make thee young, for Hope and Youth Are children of one mother, even Love.
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Power, like a desolating pestilence, pollutes whatever it touches.
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My father Time is weak and gray With waiting for a better day See how idiot-like he stands, Fumbling with his palsied hands!
Percy Bysshe Shelley
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Spirit, Patience, Gentleness, All that can adorn and bless Art thou let deeds, not words, express Thine exceeding loveliness.
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Until the mind can love, and admire, and trust, and hope, and endure, reasoned principles of moral conduct are seeds cast upon the highway of life which the unconscious passenger tramples into dust.
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A poet, as he is the author to others of the highest wisdom, pleasure, virtue, and glory, so he ought personally to be the happiest, the best, the wisest, and the most illustrious of men.
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