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The same means that have supported every other popular belief have supported Christianity. War, imprisonment, and falsehood deeds of unexampled and incomparable atrocity have made it what it is.
Percy Bysshe Shelley
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Percy Bysshe Shelley
Age: 29 †
Born: 1792
Born: August 4
Died: 1822
Died: July 8
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Percy Byssche Shelley
Percy Shelley
Shelli Persi Bish
Made
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Every
Christianity
Atrocity
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Religious
Imprisonment
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More quotes by Percy Bysshe Shelley
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.
Percy Bysshe Shelley
The everlasting universe of things Flows through the mind, and rolls its rapid waves, Now dark--now glittering--now reflecting gloom-- Now lending splendour, where from secret springs The source of human thought its tribute brings.
Percy Bysshe Shelley
What is Freedom? ye can tell That which slavery is, too well For its very name has grown To an echo of your own.
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
(Title: To the Moon) Art thou pale for weariness Of climbing heaven, and gazing on the earth, Wandering companionless Among the stars that have a different birth,-- And ever-changing, like a joyless eye That finds no object worth its constancy?
Percy Bysshe Shelley
Let there be light! Said Liberty , And like sunrise from the sea, Athens arose!
Percy Bysshe Shelley
He gave man speech, and speech created thought, Which is the measure of the universe.
Percy Bysshe Shelley
War is the statesman's game, the priest's delight, the lawyer's jest, the hired assassin's trade.
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
a single word even may be a spark of inextinguishable thought
Percy Bysshe Shelley
Power, like a desolating pestilence, Pollutes whate'er it touches and obedience, Bane of all genius, virtue, freedom, truth, Makes slaves of men, and of the human frame A mechanized automaton.
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
Sing again, with your dear voice revealing. A tone Of some world far from ours, where music and moonlight and feeling are one.
Percy Bysshe Shelley
That orbed maiden, with white fire laden, Whom mortals call the moon.
Percy Bysshe Shelley
Music, when soft voices die, Vibrates in the memory Odors, when sweet violets sicken, Live within the sense they quicken.
Percy Bysshe Shelley
Joy, once lost, is pain
Percy Bysshe Shelley
Music, when soft voices die Vibrates in the memory.
Percy Bysshe Shelley
And many an ante-natal tomb Where butterflies dream of the life to come.
Percy Bysshe Shelley
Persevere even though Hell and destruction should yawn beneath your feet.
Percy Bysshe Shelley
Are we not formed, as notes of music are, For one another, though dissimilar?
Percy Bysshe Shelley
