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Percy Bysshe Shelley

"There is eloquence in the tonguelesswind, and a melody in the flowing brooks and the rustling of thereeds beside them, which by their inconceivable relation to somethingwithin the soul, awaken the spirits to a dance of breathlessrapture, and bring tears of mysterious tenderness to the eyes, likethe enthusiasm of patriotic success, or the voice of one belovedsinging to you alone."

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"There is eloquence in the tonguelesswind, and a melody in the flowing brooks and the rustling of thereeds beside them, which by their inconceivable relation to somethingwithin the soul, awaken the spirits to a dance of breathlessrapture, and bring tears of mysterious tenderness to the eyes, likethe enthusiasm of patriotic success, or the voice of one belovedsinging to you alone."

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Amber Hurdle

"Death, like a host, comes smiling to the door;Smiling, he greets us, on that tranquil shoreWhere neither piping bird nor peeping dawnDisturbs the eternal sleep,But in the stillness far withdrawnOur dreamless rest for evermore we keep."

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Amber Hurdle

"Poetry. i am not writing it.(make way for me please)it is my skin. dripping with light."

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Amber Hurdle

"Poetry involves the mysteries of the irrational perceived through rational words."

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Amber Hurdle

"I can write no stately proemAs a prelude to my lay;From a poet to a poemI would dare to say.For if of these fallen petalsOne to you seem fair,Love will waft it till it settlesOn your hair.And when wind and winter hardenAll the loveless land,It will whisper of the garden,You will understand."

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Amber Hurdle

"The secret of poetry is never explained - is always new. We have not got farther than mere wonder at the delicacy of the touch, & the eternity it inherits. In every house a child that in mere play utters oracles, & knows not that they are such. 'Tis as easy as breath. 'Tis like this gravity, which holds the Universe together, & none knows what it is."

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Amber Hurdle

"I once began to ask around what constitutes a good poem. It felt petty, in a sense. A boy would need no help in deciding which girls he thinks are pretty."

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Amber Hurdle

"Rejoice with glitters of ashes tonightSparkling for moon's spiced silver biteUpon skin of darkness, loving night moreStorm begins unlocking cold wind's door."

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Amber Hurdle

"A chronic poet should always be an inveterate nature-lover."

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Amber Hurdle

"The moon is no door. It is a face in its own right,White as a knuckle and terribly upset.It drags the sea after it like a dark crime; it is quietWith the O-gape of complete despair. I live here."

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Amber Hurdle

"The world of light and starry grace;within your mind I live to trace.Your thought's speed in thunder's glory,lightening my being with dream's story.I embrace the tree carrying your nameYour unspoken wish : the heart of fame."

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Percy Bysshe Shelley
"I have drunken deep of joy, And I will taste no other wine tonight."
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Percy Bysshe Shelley
"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."
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Percy Bysshe Shelley
"Nothing wilts faster than laurels that have been rested upon."
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Percy Bysshe Shelley
"The pleasure that is in sorrow is sweeter than the pleasure of pleasure itself."
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Percy Bysshe Shelley
"January grey 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."
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Percy Bysshe Shelley
"Man's yesterday may never be like his morrow; Nought may endure but Mutability."
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Percy Bysshe Shelley
"Alas! this is not what I thought life was.I knew that there were crimes and evil men,Misery and hate; nor did I hope to passUntouched by suffering, through the rugged glen.In mine own heart I saw as in a glassThe hearts of others ... And whenI went among my kind, with triple brassOf calm endurance my weak breast I armed,To bear scorn, fear, and hate, a woeful mass!"
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Percy Bysshe Shelley
"Concerning God, freewill and destiny: Of all that earth has been or yet may be, all that vain men imagine or believe, or hope can paint or suffering may achieve, we descanted."
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Percy Bysshe Shelley
"Soul meets soul on lovers' lips."
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Percy Bysshe Shelley
"A poet is a nightingale, who sits in darkness and sings to cheer its own solitude with sweet sounds."
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