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And many an ante-natal tomb Where butterflies dream of the life to come.

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
Dream
Come
Many
Ante
Life
Natal
Butterflies
Tomb
Tombs
Butterfly

More quotes by Percy Bysshe Shelley

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So soon as this want or power [of love] is dead, man becomes the living sepulchre of himself, and what yet survives is the mere husk of what once he was.
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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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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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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.
Percy Bysshe Shelley
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Music, when soft voices die, Vibrates in the memory Odors, when sweet violets sicken, Live within the sense they quicken.
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By all that is sacred in our hope for the human race, I conjure those who love happiness and truth to give a fair trial to the vegetable system!
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Peace, peace! he is not dead, he doth not sleep - he hath awakened from the dream of life - 'Tis we, who lost in stormy visions, keep with phantoms an unprofitable strife.
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As I lay asleep in Italy There came a voice from over the Sea, And with great power it forth led me To walk in the visions of Poesy.
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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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February... Bending from Heaven, in azure mirth, It kissed the forehead of the Earth, And smiled upon the silent sea, And bade the frozen streams be free, And waked to music all their fountains, And breathed upon the frozen mountains.
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But hope will make thee young, for Hope and Youth Are children of one mother, even Love.
Percy Bysshe Shelley
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A poet is a nightingale, who sits in darkness and sings to cheer its own solitude with sweet sounds his auditors are as men entranced by the melody of an unseen musician, who feel that they are moved and softened, yet know not whence or why.
Percy Bysshe Shelley
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a single word even may be a spark of inextinguishable thought
Percy Bysshe Shelley
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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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Woe is me! The winged words on which my soul would pierce Into the heights of love's rare universe, Are chains of lead around its flight of fire-- I pant, I sink, I tremble, I expire.
Percy Bysshe Shelley
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I love tranquil solitude And such society As is quiet, wise, and good.
Percy Bysshe Shelley
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Songs consecrate to truth and liberty.
Percy Bysshe Shelley
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He hath awakened from the dream of life.
Percy Bysshe Shelley
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Tragedy delights by affording a shadow of the pleasure which exists in pain.
Percy Bysshe Shelley
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O, wind, if winter comes, can spring be far behind?
Percy Bysshe Shelley