Quotes from Percy Bysshe Shelley

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.

We are all Greeks. Our laws, our literature, our religion, our arts, have their root in Greece.

In a drama of the highest order there is little food for censure or hatred it teaches rather self-knowledge and self-respect.

Our sweetest songs are those that tell of saddest thought.

To hearts which near each other move From evening close to morning light,The night is good; because, my love,They never say good-night.

... a wild dissolving bliss Over my frame he breathed, approaching near, And bent his eyes of kindling tenderness Near mine, and on my lips impressed a lingering kiss

Kiss me, so long but as a kiss may last!

Soul meets soul on lovers lips.

There is a harmony in autumn, and a luster in its sky, which through the summer is not heard or seen, as if it could not be, as if it had not been!

To be omnipotent but friendless is to reign.

Obscenity, which is ever blasphemy against the divine beauty in life, is a monster for which the corruption of society forever brings forth new food, which it devours in secret.

In the infancy of society every author is necessarily a poet

Life, like a dome of many-coloured glass, Stains the white radiance of eternity.

I have been a wanderer among distant fields. I have sailed down mighty rivers.

I wish no living thing to suffer pain.

I could lie down like a tired child, And weep away the life of care Which I have borne, and yet must bear.

Death is the veil which those who live call life; They sleep, and it is lifted.

A poet is a nightingale, who sits in darkness and sings to cheer its own solitude with sweet sounds.

There is no sport in hate where all the rage Is on one side.

Whatever strengthens and purifies the affections, enlarges the imagination, and adds spirit to sense, is useful.

He hath awakened from the dream of life.

And many an ante-natal tomb Where butterflies dream of the life to come.

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.

Only nature knows how to justly proportion to the fault the punishment it deserves.