Percy Bysshe Shelley Quotes

Percy Bysshe Shelley Quotes. Below is a collection of famous Percy Bysshe Shelley quotes. Here you can find the most popular and greatest quotes by Percy Bysshe Shelley. Share these quotations with your friends and family.

Why didst thou leave the trodden paths of men Too soon, and with weak hands though mighty heart...

By Percy Bysshe Shelley
With plough and spade, and hoe and loom, Trace your grave, and build your tomb,...

By Percy Bysshe Shelley
Yes, marriage is hateful, detestable. A kind of ineffable, sickening disgust seizes my mind when I think of this most despotic, most unrequite...

By Percy Bysshe Shelley
While yet a boy I sought for ghosts, and sped Through many a listening chamber, cave and ruin,...

By Percy Bysshe Shelley
When a man marries, dies, or turns Hindoo, His best friends hear no more of him.

By Percy Bysshe Shelley
When hearts have one mingled, Love first leaves the well-built nest;...

By Percy Bysshe Shelley
Two bloodless wolves whose dry throats rattle, Two crows perched on the murrained cattle, Two vipers tangled into one.

By Percy Bysshe Shelley
To that high Capital, where kingly Death Keeps his pale court in beauty and decay, He came.

By Percy Bysshe Shelley
The whispering waves were half asleep, The clouds were gone to play, And on the bosom of the deep The smile of Heaven lay;

By Percy Bysshe Shelley
The good want power, but to weep barren tears. The powerful goodness want: worse need for them....

By Percy Bysshe Shelley
Some say that gleams of a remoter world Visit the soul in sleep,—that death is slumber,...

By Percy Bysshe Shelley
Power, like a desolating pestilence, Pollutes whate'er it touches.

By Percy Bysshe Shelley
O world! O life! O time! On whose last steps I climb,

By Percy Bysshe Shelley
Man's yesterday may ne'er be like his morrow; Nought may endure but Mutability.

By Percy Bysshe Shelley
In honored poverty thy voice did weave Songs consecrate to truth and liberty;—...

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

By Percy Bysshe Shelley
He hath awakened from the dream of life—

By Percy Bysshe Shelley
He lives, he wakes,—'tis Death is dead, not he;

By Percy Bysshe Shelley
Death is the veil which those who live call life: They sleep—and it is lifted

By Percy Bysshe Shelley
But pale despair and cold tranquillity, Nature's vast frame, the web of human things,...

By Percy Bysshe Shelley
And whether life had been before that sleep The Heaven which I imagine, or a Hell...

By Percy Bysshe Shelley
and so this tree— Oh, that such our death may be!—...

By Percy Bysshe Shelley
All things are sold: the very light of Heaven Is venal; earth's unsparing gifts of love,...

By Percy Bysshe Shelley
War is the statesman's game, the priest's delight, The lawyer's jest, the hired assassin's trade.

By Percy Bysshe Shelley
The odious and disgusting aristocracy of wealth is built upon the ruins of all that is good in chivalry or republicanism; and luxury is the forerunner of a barbarism scarcely capable of cure.

By Percy Bysshe Shelley
It is impossible that had Buonaparte descended from a race of vegetable feeders that he could have had either the inclination or the power to ascend the throne of the Bourbons.

By Percy Bysshe Shelley
Rulers, who neither see, nor feel, nor know, but leech-like to their fainting country cling, till they drop, blind in blood, without a blow, -- a people starved and stabbed in the untilled field...

By Percy Bysshe Shelley
It were as wise to cast a violet into a crucible that you might discover the formal principle of its color and odor, as seek to transfuse from one language into another the creations of a poet. The plant must spring again from its seed, or it will bear no flower -- and this is the burthen of the curse of Babel.

By Percy Bysshe Shelley
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.

By Percy Bysshe Shelley
Power, like a desolating pestilence, Pollutes what'er it touches; and obedience, Bane of all genius, virtue, freedom, truth, Makes slaves of men, and, of the human frame, A mechanized automaton.

By Percy Bysshe Shelley