Quotes About Shelley

In English, we were still on the Introduction to Poetry Unit, and I'm not lying, if I ever meet Percy Bysshe Shelley walking down the streets of Marysville, I'm going to punch him right in the face.

It's been such a deep and amazing journey for me, getting close to John Keats, and also I love Shelley and Byron. I mean, the thing about the Romantic poets is that they've got the epitaph of romantic posthumously. They all died really young, and Keats, the youngest of them all.

Shelley is truth itself and honour itself notwithstanding his out-of-the-way notions about religion.

I suspect the study of English literature is doing you no good, it's full of all sorts of romantic high-flown nonsense. You've been reading Shelley. I plead guilty to that crime.

in the right direction at the outset. Then we come to Shelley's part of the story and for that I warmly thank our local sheep farmer, Ruth Dixon.

What," asked Julian without preamble, "did Trelawny snatch from the funeral pyre at Viareggio?" The go-between replied, "Shelley's heart.

But Shelley had a hyperthyroid face.

One of the most celebrated victims of this theocratic policy was Shelley (1792-1811) who was expelled from University College, Oxford, for writing a pamphlet entitled The Necessity of Atheism.

In fact, Shelley was cremated in accordance with local by-laws designed to prevent the spread of plague, which ruled that anything washed up by the sea must be burned on the shore.

The supreme question about a work of art is out of how deep a life does it spring. Paintings of Moreau are paintings of ideas. The deepest poetry of Shelley, the words of Hamlet bring our mind into contact with the eternal wisdom; Plato's world of ideas. All the rest is the speculation of schoolboys for schoolboys.

In the intense instant of imagination, when the mind, Shelley says, is a fading coal that which I was is that which I am and that which in possibility I may come to be. So in the future, the sister of the past, I may see [187] myself as I sit here now but by reflection from that which then I shall be.

Shelley is truth itself and honour itself notwithstanding his out-of-the-way notions about religion.

It's half the battle to get a line on the adored object's favourite literature. Mug it up and decant an excerpt and she's all over you. Next moment Freddie was hareing off for a Collected Works of Tennyson. Relieved, because, girls being ehat they are, it might easily have been Shelley or even Browning.

Yes I am definitely an 'Orange is the New Black' fan... Not an obsessive, but a fan none the less.

What Shelley's world of Prometheus Unbound really has to fear is not resurrection of Jupiter but the resurrection of John Donne.

Okay, let me get a pen." There were rustling noises. "I can't find one." More noises. "Okay,shoot." "You found a pen?" "No, but I have a can of Cheez Whiz. I'll write your number on the counter with it, then find a pen and copy it." Jaine recited her number and listened to the spewing noise as Shelley Cheez-Whizzed it on her countertop.

Shelley was also the wife of the great poet and rotter Percy Bysshe Shelley.

Boys and girls," Professor Bhegad said. "Meet Shelley." CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN THE LETHARGIC LIZARD THE MACHINE BARKED a greeting halfway between a brack and a clonk. "You lost me, Professor Bhegad," Marco said.

I have made my bed In charnels and on coffins, where black death Keeps record of the trophies won

O weep for Adonis - He is dead." "Peace. He is not dead he doth not sleep - he hath wakened from the dream of life

I thought of Shelley in the hospital, how she said sometimes sadness only looked like anger and judgment. Maybe fear did too.

Ze pakte het volgende boek, schudde ermee om te zien of er een briefje in zat en sloeg het open. Trelawny's herinneringen aan Byron en Shelley. Ze sloeg het open en begon te lezen (want het was geen heilig exemplaar, geen zeldzaamheid, maar gedateerd Londen, 1932). Trelawny? De man die het lichaam van Shelley had verbrand en het hart had bewaard. Ja, die Trelawny. De piraat. Een reus. Ging na de dood van Shelley met Byron naar Griekenland.

[A] beautiful and ineffectual angel [Shelley], beating in the void his luminous wings in vain.

A tortoise out in winter?" cheeped the bird. " Ridiculous! " "No it isn't," snapped Shelley. "Oh no? Then let's see you fly home and cuddle up with your family like I can. Ha-cheep-ha!" "Of course I can't fly," thought Shelley. "I can't even hop!