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Music, when soft voices die, Vibrates in the memory Odors, when sweet violets sicken, Live within the sense they quicken.

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
Dies
Slumber
Voice
Violet
Sense
Voices
Sicken
Music
Soft
Vibrates
Live
Memory
Quicken
Sweet
Violets
Memories
Vibrate
Within
Odor

More quotes by Percy Bysshe Shelley

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It is easier to suppose that the universe has existed for all eternity than to conceive a being beyond its limits capable of creating it.
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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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A Christian, a Deist, a Turk, and a Jew, have equal rights: they are men and brethren.
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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.
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To be omnipotent but friendless is to reign.
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To hope till hope creates From its own wreck the thing it contemplates.
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O cease! must hate and death return, Cease! must men kill and die? Cease! drain not to its dregs the urn Of bitter prophecy. The world is weary of the past, Oh, might it die or rest at last!
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A dream has power to poison sleep.
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When a man marries, dies, or turns Hindu, his best friends hear no more of him.
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O, wind, if winter comes, can spring be far behind?
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In a drama of the highest order there is little food for censure or hatred it teaches rather self-knowledge and self-respect.
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Dar'st thou amid the varied multitude To live alone, an isolated thing?
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Image of rugged cliffs And so thy thoughts, when thou art gone, Love itself shall slumber on.
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The man of virtuous soul commands not, nor obeys.
Percy Bysshe Shelley
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I arise from dreams of thee In the first sweet sleep of night, when the winds are breathing low, and the stars are shining bright.
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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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Peter was dull he was at first Dull - Oh, so dull - so very dull! Whether he talked, wrote, or rehearsed - Still with his dulness was he cursed - Dull -beyond all conception - dull.
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For there are deeds which have no form, sufferings which have no tongue.
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The desire of the moth for the star, Of the night for the morrow, The devotion to something afar From the sphere of our sorrow.
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