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Gold is a living god and rules in scorn, All earthly things but virtue.

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
Living
Things
Earthly
Scorn
Rules
Gold
Virtue

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Design must be proved before a designer can be inferred.
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Their errors have been weighed and found to have been dust in the balance if their sins were as scarlet, they are now white as snow: they have been washed in the blood of the mediator and the redeemer, Time.
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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.
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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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Cold hopes swarm like worms within our living clay.
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O'er Egypt's land of memory floods are level, And they are thine, O Nile! and well thou knowest The soul-sustaining airs and blasts of evil, And fruits, and poisons spring where'er thou flowest.
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The pale stars are gone! For the sun, their swift shepherd, To their folds them compelling, In the depths of the dawn, Hastes, in meteor-eclipsing array, and the flee Beyond his blue dwelling, As fawns flee the leopard.
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Until the mind can love, and admire, and trust, and hope, and endure, reasoned principles of moral conduct are seeds cast upon the highway of life which the unconscious passenger tramples into dust.
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Words are but holy as the deeds they cover.
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It is found easier, by the short-sighted victims of disease, to palliate their torments by medicine, than to prevent them by regimen
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I Fall upon the thorns of life.
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For the Sensitive Plant has no bright flower Radiance and odour are not its dower It loves, even like Love, its deep heart is full, It desires what it has not, the beautiful.
Percy Bysshe Shelley
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Image of rugged cliffs And so thy thoughts, when thou art gone, Love itself shall slumber on.
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.
Percy Bysshe Shelley
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He has outsoared the shadow of our night envy and calumny and hate and pain, and that unrest which men miscall delight, can touch him not and torture not again from the contagion of the world's slow stain, he is secure.
Percy Bysshe Shelley
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Rulers, who neither see, nor feel, nor know, but leech-like to their fainting country cling, till they drop, blind in blood, without a blow, - a people starved and stabbed in the untilled field.
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How beautiful is sunset when the glow Of Heaven descends upon a land like thee, Thou Paradise of exiles, Italy!
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I stood within the city disinterred And heard the autumnal leaves like light footfalls Of spirits passng through the streets and heard the Mountain's slumberous voice at intervals Thrill through those roofless halls The oracular thunder penetrating shook The listening soul in my suspended blood.
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Whence are we, and why are we? Of what scene The actors or spectators?
Percy Bysshe Shelley
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For love and beauty and delight, there is no death nor change.
Percy Bysshe Shelley