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Ah! what a divine religion might be found out if charity were really made the principle of it instead of faith.
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
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Percy Byssche Shelley
Percy Shelley
Shelli Persi Bish
Might
Charity
Made
Atheism
Really
Instead
Love
Divine
Principles
Religion
Faith
Found
Principle
More quotes by Percy Bysshe Shelley
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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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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I have been a wanderer among distant fields. I have sailed down mighty rivers.
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Underneath Day's azure eyes, Ocean's nursling, Venice lies, A peopled labyrinth of walls, Amphitrite's destined halls
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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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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!
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I consider poetry very subordinate to moral and political science.
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The encomium of one incapable of flattery is indeed flattering.
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So is Hope Changed for Despair-one laid upon the shelf, We take the other. Under heaven's high cope Fortune is god-all you endure and do Depends on circumstance as much as you.
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Death will come when thou art dead, soon, too soon.
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Nothing in the world is single, All things by a law divine, In one spirit meet and mingle-Why not I with thine?
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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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Worse than despair, Worse than the bitterness of death, is hope.
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He hath awakened from the dream of life.
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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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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
The cloud of mind is discharging its collected lightning.
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Sing again, with your dear voice revealing. A tone Of some world far from ours, where music and moonlight and feeling are one.
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Whatever strengthens and purifies the affections, enlarges the imagination, and adds spirit to sense, is useful.
Percy Bysshe Shelley
Cold hopes swarm like worms within our living clay.
Percy Bysshe Shelley
