Most wretched men Are cradled into poetry by wrong: They learn in suffering what they teach in song.
Percy Shelley (1792 - 1822)
Source: Julian and Maddalo. Line 544.
Contributed by: Zaady
O thou, Who chariotest to their dark wintry bed The winged seeds, where they lie cold and low, Each like a corpse within its grave, until Thine azure sister of the spring shall blow Her clarion o'er the dreaming earth.
Source: Ode to the West Wind.
Peace, peace! he is not dead, he doth not sleep! He hath awaken from the dream of life!
Peter was dull; he was at first Dull,-oh so dull, so very dull! Whether he talked, wrote, or rehearsed, Still with this dulness was he cursed! Dull,-beyond all conception, dull.
Source: Peter Bell the Third. Part vii. xi.
Power, like a desolating pestilence, Pollutes whate'er it touches; and obedience, Bane of all genius, virtue, freedom, truth, Makes slaves of men, and of the human frame A mechanized automaton.
Source: Queen Mab. iii.
Sing again, with your dear voice revealing A tone Of some world far from ours, Where music and moonlight and feeling Are one.
Source: To Jane. The keen Stars were twinkling.
That orbed maiden with white fire laden, Whom mortals call the moon.
Source: The Cloud. iv.
The desire of the moth for the star, Of the night for the morrow, The devotion to something afar From the sphere of our sorrow.
Source: One Word is too often profaned.
Fear not for the future, weep not for the past.
Heaven's ebon vault Studded with stars unutterably bright, Through which the moon's unclouded grandeur rolls, Seems like a canopy which love has spread To curtain her sleeping world.
Source: Queen Mab. iv.
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