“Love, hope, and self-esteem, like clouds depart And come, for some uncertain moments lent. Man were immortal and omnipotent, Didst thou, unknown and awful as thou art, Keep with thy glorious train firm state within his heart.” — Percy Bysshe Shelley Copy Share Image
The awful shadow of some unseen Power Floats though unseen among us; visiting This various world with as inconstant wing As summer winds that creep from flower to flower; Like moonbeams that behind some piny mountain shower, It visits with… — 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
