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Percy Bysshe Shelley

"We rest; a dream has power to poison sleep.We rise; one wand'ring thought pollutes the day.We feel, conceive, or reason; laugh or weep,Embrace fond woe, or cast our cares away;It is the same: for, be it joy or sorrow,The path of its departure still is free.Man's yesterday may ne'er be like his morrow;Nought may endure but Mutability!"

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"We rest; a dream has power to poison sleep.We rise; one wand'ring thought pollutes the day.We feel, conceive, or reason; laugh or weep,Embrace fond woe, or cast our cares away;It is the same: for, be it joy or sorrow,The path of its departure still is free.Man's yesterday may ne'er be like his morrow;Nought may endure but Mutability!"

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Amber Hurdle

"A red leaf danced from a branch like a dropping flame, down into the calm blue lake. A gust had broken it free. There was a cold bite in the wind. It was now deep autumn in the mountains."

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Amber Hurdle

"She would fain have caught at the skirts of that departing time, and prayed it to return, and give her back what she had too little valued while it was yet in her possession. What a vain show Life seemed! How unsubstantial, and flickering, and flitting! It was as if from some aerial belfry, high up above the stir and jar of the earth, there was a bell continually tolling, 'All are shadows!-all are passing!-all is past!"

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Amber Hurdle

"Hey, even the Mona Lisa is falling apart."

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Amber Hurdle

"Thanks to impermanence, everything is possible. Life itself is possible. If a grain of corn is not impermanent, it can never be transformed into a stalk of corn. If the stalk were not impermanent, it could never provide us with the ear of corn we eat."

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Amber Hurdle

"The very first noble truth of the Buddha points out that suffering is inevitable for human beings as long as we believe that things last-that they don't disintegrate, that they can be counted on to satisfy our hunger for security."

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Amber Hurdle

"Those who are made can be unmade."

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Amber Hurdle

"We are imperfect mortal beings, aware of that mortality even as we push it away, failed by our very complication, so wired that when we mourn our losses we also mourn, for better or for worse, ourselves. as we were. as we are no longer. as we will one day not be at all."

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Amber Hurdle

"Even as I hold youI think of you as someone gonefar, far away. Your eyes the colorof pennies in a bowl of dark honeybringing sweet light to someone elseyour black hair slipping through my fingersis the flash of your head goingaround a corneryour smile, breaking before me,the flippant last turnof a revolving door,emptying you out, changed,away from me.Even as I hold youI am letting go."

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Amber Hurdle

"I know there's no such thing as forever. So what can we be, in the now?"

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Amber Hurdle

"Whenever you see flies or insects in a still life-a wilted petal, a black spot on the apple-the painter is giving you a secret message. He's telling you that living things don't last-it's all temporary. Death in life. That's why they're called natures mortes. Maybe you don't see it at first with all the beauty and bloom, the little speck of rot. But if you look closer-there it is."

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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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"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
"Reason respects the differences, and imagination the similitudes of things."
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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
"O, wind, if winter comes, can spring be far behind?"
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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
"The great instrument of moral good is the imagination."
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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
"There is no real wealth but the labor of man."
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