Percy Bysshe Shelley was one of the major English Romantic poets and is widely considered to be among the finest lyric poets of the English language. He is perhaps most famous for such anthology pieces as Ozymandias, Ode to the West Wind, To a Skylark, and The Masque of Anarchy.
Let this list of 69 quotations by the English poet Percy Bysshe Shelley lead you to an inspirational day. Recharge yourself with motivational love, life, death sayings, and satisfy your hunger for a better life.
What are the best Percy Bysshe Shelley quotes?
We've made this hand-picked collection of quotes to show you what is Percy Bysshe Shelley truly willing to say and leave for generations. Whether an inspirational quote or a motivational message about giving your best, we can all benefit from the wisdom, captured within these words.
The more we study the more we discover our ignorance.
Our sweetest songs are those that tell of saddest thought.
Familiar acts are beautiful through love.
A single word even may be a spark of inextinguishable thought.
The great instrument of moral good is the imagination.
Poetry is a mirror which makes beautiful that which is distorted.
Poetry is a sword of lightning, ever unsheathed, which consumes the scabbard that would contain it.
Only nature knows how to justly proportion to the fault the punishment it deserves.
Cold hopes swarm like worms within our living clay.
When my cats aren't happy, I'm not happy.
Not because I care about their mood but because I know they're just sitting there thinking up ways to get even.
Poetry is the record of the best and happiest moments of the happiest and best minds.
Revenge is the naked idol of the worship of a semi-barbarous age.
Life may change, but it may fly not; Hope may vanish, but can die not; Truth be veiled, but still it burneth; Love repulsed, -- but it returneth.
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.
Soul meets soul on lovers lips.
I think that the leaf of a tree, the meanest insect on which we trample, are in themselves arguments more conclusive than any which can be adduced that some vast intellect animates Infinity.
Thou hast a voice, great Mountain, to repeal.
Large codes of fraud and woe; not understood by all, but which the wise, and great, and good interpret, or make felt, or deeply feel.
...What are numbers knit By force or custom? Man who man would be,Must rule the empire of himself; in itMust be supreme, establishing his throneOn vanquished will, quelling the anarchyOf hopes and fears, being himself alone.
A man, to be greatly good, must imagine intensely and comprehensively;
he must put himself in the place of another and of many others; the pains and pleasures of his species must become his own.
We look before and after, And pine for what is not;
Our sincerest laughter With some pain is fraught; Our sweetest songs are those that tell of saddest thought.
History is a cyclic poem written by time upon the memories of man.
In a drama of the highest order there is little food for censure or hatred;
it teaches rather self-knowledge and self-respect.
Rough wind, that moanest loudGrief too sad for song;
Wild wind, when sullen cloudKnells all the night long;Sad storm, whose tears are vain,Bare woods, whose branches strain,Deep caves and dreary main, - Wail, for the world's wrong!
Death is the veil which those who live call life; They sleep, and it is lifted.
Mild is the slow necessity of death;The tranquil spirit fails beneath its grasp,Without a groan, almost without a fear,Resigned in peace to the necessity;Calm as a voyager to some distant land,And full of wonder, full of hope as he.
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.
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.
All things are sold: the very light of heaven is venal;
earth's unsparing gifts of love, the smallest and most despicable things that lurk in the abysses of the deep, all objects of our life, even life itself, and the poor pittance which the laws allow of liberty, the fellowship of man, those duties which his heart of human love should urge him to perform instinctively, are bought and sold as in a public mart of not disguising selfishness, that sets on each its price, the stamp-mark of her reign.
When a thing is said to be not worth refuting you may be sure that either it is flagrantly stupid - in which case all comment is superfluous - or it is something formidable, the very crux of the problem.
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.
I met a traveller from an antique land
Who said: Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert. Near them on the sand,
Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown
And wrinkled lip and sneer of cold command
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,
The hand that mocked them and the heart that fed.
And on the pedestal these words appear:
'My name is Ozymandias, King of Kings:
Look on my works, ye mighty, and despair!'
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare,
The lone and level sands stretch far away.
There was no corn -- in the wide market-place all loathliest things, even human flesh, was sold; They weighed it in small scales -- and many a face was fixed in eager horror then; his gold the miser brought; the tender maid, grown bold through hunger, bared her scorned charms in vain.
Government is an evil; it is only the thoughtlessness and vices of men that make it a necessary evil. When all men are good and wise, government will of itself decay.
All of us, who are worth anything, spend our manhood in unlearning the follies, or expiating the mistakes of our youth.
The gigantic shadows which futurity casts upon the present.
Here I swear, and as I break my oath may eternity blast me, here I swear that never will I forgive Christianity! It is the only point on which I allow myself to encourage revenge. Oh, how I wish I were the Antichrist, that it were mine to crush the Demon; to hurl him to his native Hell never to rise again -- I expect to gratify some of this insatiable feeling in Poetry.
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...
Woe is me! The winged words on which my soul would pierceInto the heights of love's rare universe,Are chains of lead around its flight of fire--I pant, I sink, I tremble, I expire.