Share
×
Inspirational Quotes
Authors
Professions
Topics
Tags
Quote
The babe is at peace within the womb, the corpse is at rest within the tomb. We begin in what we end.
Percy Bysshe Shelley
Share
Change background
T
T
T
Change font
Original
TAGS & TOPICS
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
Peace
Tomb
Death
Tombs
Ends
Babe
Corpses
Womb
Begin
Rest
Within
Corpse
More quotes by Percy Bysshe Shelley
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!
Percy Bysshe Shelley
Narrow The heart that loves, the brain that contemplates, The life that wears, the spirit that creates One object, and one form, and builds thereby A sepulchre for its eternity.
Percy Bysshe Shelley
See the mountains kiss high Heaven And the waves clasp one another No sister-flower would be forgiven If it disdained its brother And the sunlight clasps the earth, And the moonbeams kiss the sea - What is all this sweet work worth If thou kiss not me?
Percy Bysshe Shelley
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
Love is free to promise for ever to love the same woman is not less absurd than to promise to believe the same creed such a vow in both cases excludes us from all inquiry.
Percy Bysshe Shelley
Life may change, but it may fly not Hope may vanish, but can die not Truth be veiled, but still it burneth Love repulsed, - but it returneth!
Percy Bysshe Shelley
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
Percy Bysshe Shelley
Thus suicidal selfishness, that blights The fairest feelings of the opening heart, Is destined to decay, whilst from the soil Shall spring all virtue, all delight, all love, And judgment cease to wage unnatural war With passion's unsubduable array.
Percy Bysshe Shelley
The world is weary of the past, Oh, might it die or rest at last!
Percy Bysshe Shelley
It is vain philosophy that supposes more causes than are exactly adequate to explain the phenomena of things.
Percy Bysshe Shelley
For love and beauty and delight, there is no death nor change.
Percy Bysshe Shelley
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.
Percy Bysshe Shelley
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
And many more Destructions played In this ghastly masquerade, All disguised, even to the eyes, Like Bishops, lawyers, peers, or spies.
Percy Bysshe Shelley
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.
Percy Bysshe Shelley
It were much better that a sentient being should never have existed, than that it should have existed only to endure unmitigated misery.
Percy Bysshe Shelley
Whatever may be his true and final destination, there is a spirit within him at enmity with nothingness and dissolution. This is the character of all life and being.
Percy Bysshe Shelley
I think that the leaf of a tree, the meanest insect on which we trample, are in themselves arguments more conclusive than any which can be adduced that some vast intellect animates Infinity.
Percy Bysshe Shelley
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.
Percy Bysshe Shelley
Joy, once lost, is pain
Percy Bysshe Shelley
