Percy Bysshe Shelley

What is love? It is that powerful attraction towards all that we conceive, or fear, or hope beyond ourselves.

Man's yesterday may ne'er be like his morrow; Naught may endure but Mutability.

The weight of the superincumbent hour.

To be a poet is to be the master of the celebration of life.

The soul of man is immortal and its future is the body.

Chill and mirk is the noontide air.

Language is fossil poetry.

All high poetry is infinite; it is as the first acorn, which contains all oaks potentially.

The everlasting universe of things Flows through the mind.

Power, like a desolating pestilence, Pollutes whate'er it touches.

In a drama of the highest order there is little food for censure or hatred; it teaches rather self-knowledge and self-respect.

The life of man is of no greater importance to the universe than that of an oyster.

Tyranny entrenches itself within the existing interests of the most refined citizens.

The discussion of any subject is a right that you have brought into the world with your heart and tongue.

The words which express our thoughts sometimes rise beautifully spontaneous from the mind.

Revenge, retaliation, retaliation is a barbarous remedy.

I love all waste And solitary places.

The fountains mingle with the river And the rivers with the ocean, The winds of heaven mix for ever With a sweet emotion.

Away! the moor is dark beneath the moon.

How wonderful is Death, Death and his brother Sleep!