“Whether that lady's gentle mind, No longer with the form combined Which scattered love, as stars do light, Found sadness where it left delight, I dare not guess; but in this life Of error, ignorance, and strife, Where nothing is,… — Percy Bysshe Shelley Copy Share Image
It is a modest creed, and yet Pleasant if one considers it, To own that death itself must be, Like all the rest, a mockery. — Percy Bysshe Shelley Copy Share Image
