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The young moon has fed Her exhausted horn With the sunset's fire.
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
Feds
Exhausted
Sunset
Moon
Fire
Night
Young
Horn
Horns
More quotes by Percy Bysshe Shelley
No more let life divide what death can join together.
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a single word even may be a spark of inextinguishable thought
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To be omnipotent but friendless is to reign.
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Yes, marriage is hateful, detestable. A kind of ineffable, sickening disgust seizes my mind when I think of this most despotic, most unrequited fetter which prejudice has forged to confine its energies.
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It is a modest creed, and yet Pleasant if one considers it, To own that death itself must be, Like all the rest, a mockery.
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Peace is in the grave.
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The pleasure that is in sorrow is sweeter than the pleasure of pleasure itself.
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Religion! but for thee, prolific fiend, Who peoplest earth with demons, hell with men, And heaven with slaves!
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Those who love not their fellow-beings live unfruitful lives, and prepare for their old age a miserable grave.
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There is no real wealth but the labour of man. Were the mountains of gold and the valleys of silver, the world would not be one grain of corn the richer no one comfort would be added to the human race.
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And on the pedestal these words appear: 'My name is Ozymandias, king of kings: Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!' Nothing beside remains. Round the decay Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare The lone and level sands stretch far away.
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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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I am not much of a hand at love songs, you see I mingle metaphysics with even this, but perhaps in this age of Philosophy that may be excused.
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Where is perfection? Where I cannot reach.
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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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The great instrument of moral good is the imagination.
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This, and no other, is justice: to consider, under all the circumstances and consequences of a particular case, how the greatest quantity and purest quality of happiness will ensue from any action ... there is no other justice.
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A dream has power to poison sleep.
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But Greece and her foundations are Built below the tide of war, Based on the crystalline sea Of thought and its eternity Her citizens, imperial spirits, Rule the present from the past, On all this world of men inherits Their seal is set.
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O world! O life! O time! On whose last steps I climb
Percy Bysshe Shelley