Quote

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

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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
Love
Bright
Like
Gold
Prisms
Grows
Differs
Understanding
Gazing
Away
Divide
True
Clay
Take
Divides
Many
Truths

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Poets are the unacknowledged legislators of the world.
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When the power of imparting joy is equal to the will, the human soul requires no other heaven.
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The young moon has fed Her exhausted horn With the sunset's fire.
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Fear not for the future, weep not for the past.
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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.
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I love tranquil solitude And such society As is quiet, wise, and good.
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The world is weary of the past, Oh, might it die or rest at last!
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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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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.
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This lake exceeds anything I ever beheld in beauty.
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O! I burn with impatience for the moment of the dissolution of intolerance it has injured me.
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Men must reap the things they sow, Force from force must ever flow.
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A husband and wife ought to continue united so long as they love each other. Any law which should bind them to cohabitation for one moment after the decay of their affection would be a most intolerable tyranny, and the most unworthy of toleration.
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O cease! must hate and death return, Cease! must men kill and die? Cease! drain not to its dregs the urn Of bitter prophecy. The world is weary of the past, Oh, might it die or rest at last!
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Death will come when thou art dead, soon, too soon.
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... 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
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Thou Paradise of exiles, Italy!
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Thou demandest what is love? It is that powerful attraction towards all that we conceive, or fear, or hope beyond ourselves, when we find within our own thoughts the chasm of an insufficient void, and seek to awaken in all things that are, a community with what we experience within ourselves.
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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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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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