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Be your strong and simple words Keen to wound as sharpened swords, And wide as targes let them be, With their shade to cover ye.

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
Words
Swords
Strong
Keen
Wound
Shade
Cover
Wounds
Wide
Simple
Sharpened

More quotes by Percy Bysshe Shelley

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January gray is here, like a sexton by her grave February bears the bier, march with grief doth howl and rave, and April weeps -- but, O ye hours! Follow with May's fairest flowers.
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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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In each human heart terror survives The ravin it has gorged: the loftiest fear All that they would disdain to think were true: Hypocrisy and custom make their minds The fanes of many a worship, now outworn. They dare not devise good for man's estate, And yet they know not that they do not dare.
Percy Bysshe Shelley
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Chameleons feed on light and air: Poets food is love and fame.
Percy Bysshe Shelley
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Obedience indeed is only the pitiful and cowardly egotism of him who thinks that he can do something better than reason.
Percy Bysshe Shelley
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Chastity is a monkish and evangelical superstition, a greater foe to natural temperance even than unintellectual sensuality it strikes at the root of all domestic happiness, and consigns more than half of the human race to misery.
Percy Bysshe Shelley
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Tragedy delights by affording a shadow of the pleasure which exists in pain.
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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!
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Ah, woe is me! Winter is come and gone. But grief returns with the revolving year.
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Men of England, wherefore plough For the lords who lay you low?
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O! I burn with impatience for the moment of the dissolution of intolerance it has injured me.
Percy Bysshe Shelley
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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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Our Adonais has drunk poisonoh! What deaf and viperous murderer could crown Life's early cup with such a draught of woe?
Percy Bysshe Shelley
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No more let life divide what death can join together.
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The good want power, but to weep barren tears. The powerful goodness want: worse need for them. The wise want love and those who love want wisdom.
Percy Bysshe Shelley
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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.
Percy Bysshe Shelley
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Jealousy's eyes are green.
Percy Bysshe Shelley
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The quick Dreams, The passion-winged Ministers of thought.
Percy Bysshe Shelley
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... Virtue owns a more eternal foe Than Force or Fraud: old Custom, legal Crime, And bloody Faith the foulest birth of Time.
Percy Bysshe Shelley
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And many more Destructions played In this ghastly masquerade, All disguised, even to the eyes, Like Bishops, lawyers, peers, or spies.
Percy Bysshe Shelley