Percy Bysshe Shelley Quotes

Rough wind, that moanest loudGrief too sad for songWild wind, when sullen cloudKnells all the night longSad storm, whose tears are vain,Bare woods, whose branches strain,Deep caves and dreary main, - Wail, for the world's wrong
Fear not for the future, weep not for the past.
History is a cyclic poem written by Time upon the memories of man.
I love tranquil solitude And such society As is quiet, wise, and good.
Our sweetest songs are those that tell the saddest thoughts.
We look before and after, And pine for what is not Our sincerest laughter With some pain is fraught Our sweetest songs are those that tell of saddest thought.
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