To suffer woes which Hope thinks infinite; To forgive wrongs darker than death or night; To defy Power, which seems omnipotent; To love, and bear; to hope till Hope creates From it's own wreck the thing it contemplates; Neither to… — Percy Bysshe Shelley Copy Share Image
“Gentleness, Virtue, Wisdom, and Endurance, These are the seals of that most firm assurance Which bars the pit over Destruction's strength; And if, with infirm hand, Eternity, Mother of many acts and hours, should free The serpent that would clasp… — Percy Bysshe Shelley Copy Share Image
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… — Percy Bysshe Shelley Copy Share Image
“Though we eat little flesh and drink no wine, Yet let's be merry; we'll have tea and toast; Custards for supper, and an endless… — Percy Bysshe Shelley Copy Share Image
Titles are tinsel, power a corrupter, glorya bubble, and excessive wealth a libel on its possessor. — Percy Bysshe Shelley Copy Share Image
“Poets and philosophers are the unacknowledged legislators of the world.” — Percy Bysshe Shelley Copy Share Image
Dar'st thou amid the varied multitude To live alone, an isolated thing? — Percy Bysshe Shelley Copy Share Image
Spirit of BEAUTY, that dost consecrate With thine own hues all thou dost shine upon Of human thought or form, where art thou gone?… — Percy Bysshe Shelley Copy Share Image
I love tranquil solitude, And such society As is quiet, wise, and good; Between thee and me What difference? but thou dost possess The… — Percy Bysshe Shelley Copy Share Image
The practice of utter sincerity towards other men would avail to no good end, if they were incapable of practising it towards their own… — Percy Bysshe Shelley Copy Share Image
Thou shoreless flood, which in thy ebb and flow claspest the limits of mortality. — Percy Bysshe Shelley Copy Share Image
Senseless is the breast and cold Which relenting love would fold; Bloodless are the veins and chill Which the pulse of pain did fill;… — Percy Bysshe Shelley Copy Share Image
