Quote

Let me set my mournful ditty To a merry measure Thou wilt never come for pity, Thou wilt come for pleasure Pity then will cut away Those cruel wings, and thou wilt stay.

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
Come
Pity
Never
Measure
Thou
Wings
Ditty
Cutting
Mournful
Stay
Wilt
Pleasure
Merry
Away
Cruel

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Joy, once lost, is pain
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Not the swart Pariah in some Indian grove, Lone, lean, and hunted by his brother's hate, Hath drunk so deep the cup of bitter fate As that poor wretch who cannot, cannot love: He bears a load which nothing can remove, A killing, withering weight.
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Is it not odd that the only generous person I ever knew, who had money to be generous with, should be a stockbroker.
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The advocates of literal interpretation have been the most efficacious enemies of those doctrines whose nature they profess to venerate.
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War is the statesman's game, the priest's delight, the lawyer's jest, the hired assassin's trade.
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I love tranquil solitude, And such society As is quiet, wise, and good Between thee and me What difference? but thou dost possess The things I seek, not love them less.
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The same means that have supported every other popular belief have supported Christianity. War, imprisonment, and falsehood deeds of unexampled and incomparable atrocity have made it what it is.
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The Pilgrim of Eternity, whose fame Over his living head like heaven is bent, An early but enduring monument, Came, veiling all the lightnings of his song In sorrow.
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Had this author [Sir W Drummond Academical Questions, chap. iii.], instead of inveighing against the guilt and absurdity of atheism, demonstrated its falsehood, his conduct would have, been more suited to the modesty of the skeptic and the toleration of the philosopher.
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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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A Christian, a Deist, a Turk, and a Jew, have equal rights: they are men and brethren.
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Nature rejects the monarch, not the man the subject, not the citizen... The man of virtuous soul commands not, nor obeys.
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Sounds of vernal showers On the twinkling grass, Rain awaken'd flowers, All that ever was Joyous, and clear, and fresh, thy music doth surpass
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The intense atom glows A moment, then is quenched in a most cold repose.
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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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Jealousy's eyes are green.
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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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What is Freedom? ye can tell That which slavery is, too well For its very name has grown To an echo of your own.
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I love all waste And solitary places where we taste The pleasure of believing what we see Is boundless, as we wish our souls to be.
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A poet is a nightingale, who sits in darkness and sings to cheer its own solitude with sweet sounds.
Percy Bysshe Shelley