aspiration

battlefield

death

difficulty

dream

gold

Greek

hell

history

Homer

January

Jesus Christ

John Keats

kiss

lips

London

moon

night

obedience

past

peace

perfection

pleasure

poet

poetry

power

proof

revenge

Rome

seasons

starry sky

trouble

west wind

winter

intellectual movement

Romanticism

occupation / innovator as

translator

nationality

British

linguist

playwright

religion

atheism

novelist

accident

is the veil which those who live call life... they sleep, and it is lifted.

Death is the veil which those who live call life... They sleep, and it is lifted. Percy Bysshe Shelley

is a thing possessing the power to poison sleep.

is a living god, and rules in scorn all earthly things but virtue.

Gold is a living god, and rules in scorn all earthly things but virtue.

is a cyclic poem written by Time upon the memories of man.

History is a cyclic poem written by Time upon the memories of man.

is a bridge connecting souls. Soul meets soul on lovers' lips.

is that great sea, whose ebb and flow At once is deaf and loud, and oil the shore Vomits its wrecks, and still howls on for more. Yet in its depth what treasures.

In London, that great sea, whose ebb and flow At once is deaf and loud, and oil the shore Vomits its wrecks, and still howls on for more. Yet in its depth what treasures.

is of soul and body, formed for deeds of high resolve, on fancy's boldest wing.

Man is of soul and body, formed for deeds of high resolve, on fancy's boldest wing.

is the orbed maiden with white fire laden, whom mortals call the moon.

That orbed maiden, with white fire laden,

is bane of all genius, virtue, freedom, truth, which makes slaves of men, and, of the human frame, a mechanized automaton.

Obedience, Bane of all genius, virtue, freedom, truth Makes slaves of men, and/of the human frame, A mechanized automaton.

is located in that place where we cannot reach.

Where is perfection' Where I cannot reach.

is that which, in sorrow, is sweeter than the pleasure of pleasure itself.

The pleasure that is in sorrow is sweeter than the pleasure of pleasure itself. (Percy Bysshe Shelley)

is a nightingale, who sits in darkness and sings to cheer its own solitude with sweet sounds.

A poet is a nightingale, who sits in darkness and sings to cheer its own solitude with sweet sounds. His auditors are as men entranced by the melody of an unseen musician, who feel that they are moved and softened, yet know not whence or why.

is a mirror which makes beautiful that which is distorted.

Poetry is a mirror which makes beautiful that which is distorted. Percy Bysshe Shelley

is a cycle of death. January is gray like a sexton by the grave, February bears its bier, March howls and raves with grief, April weeps, and May provides its fairest flowers to follow.

January gray is here, like a sexton by her grave; February bears the bier, march with grief doth howl and rave, and April weeps -- but, O ye hours! Follow with May's fairest flowers.

is set; the swallows are asleep; • The bats are flitting fast in the gray air; The slow soft toads out of damp corners creep.; And evening's breath, wandering here and there Over the quivering surface of the stream, Wakes not one ripple from its silent dream.

The sun Is set; the swallows are asleep; • The bats are flitting fast in the gray air; The slow soft toads out of damp corners creep.; And evening's breath, wandering here and there Over the quivering surface of the stream, Wakes not one ripple from its silent dream.

is that from whose unseen presence the dead leaves are driven like ghosts fleeing from an enchanter.

O wild West Wind, thou breath of Autumn's being. Thou, from whose unseen presence the leaves dead Are driven, like ghosts from an enchanter fleeing.

is come and gone. But grief returns with the revolving year. .

Winter is come and gone. But grief returns with the revolving year. .

Percy Bysshe ShelleyThinkers

Percy Bysshe Shelley