Percy Bysshe Shelley Quotes About Sorrow

Quotes about: Sorrow

• Our sweetest songs are those that tell of saddest thought.

  Percy Bysshe Shelley

  Sad, Song, Musical

  "To a Skylark" l. 88 (1819)

• 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!

  Percy Bysshe Shelley

  Dream, Sleep, Men

  Percy Bysshe Shelley (2013). “Delphi Complete Works of Percy Bysshe Shelley (Illustrated)”, p.1701, Delphi Classics

• 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.

  Percy Bysshe Shelley

  Stars, Night, Sorrow

  "To - : One word is too often profaned" l. 13 (1824)

• The Pilgrim of Eternity, whose fame Over his living head like heaven is bent, An early but enduring monument, Came, veiling all the lightnings of his song In sorrow.

  Percy Bysshe Shelley

  Life, Song, Heaven

  Samuel Taylor Coleridge, Percy Bysshe Shelley, John Keats (1829). “The Poetical Works of Coleridge, Shelley, and Keats: Complete in One Volume”

• The pleasure that is in sorrow is sweeter than the pleasure of pleasure itself.

  Percy Bysshe Shelley

  Sorrow, Pleasure

  Percy Bysshe Shelley (1840). “A defense of poetry. Essay on the literature, arts, and manners of the Athenians. Preface to the Banquet of Plato. The banquet”, p.43

• Sorrow, terror, anguish, despair itself are often the chosen expressions of an approximation to the highest good. Our sympathy in tragic fiction depends on this principle; tragedy delights by affording a shadow of the pleasure which exists in pain. This is the source also of the melancholy which is inseparable from the sweetest melody. The pleasure that is in sorrow is sweeter than the pleasure of pleasure itself.

  Percy Bysshe Shelley

  Pain, Expression, Sorrow

  Percy Bysshe Shelley (2006). “A Defence of Poetry: an Essay: Easyread Large Edition”, p.57, ReadHowYouWant.com

• As long as skies are blue, and fields are green Evening must usher night, night urge the morrow, Month follow month with woe, and year wake year to sorrow

  Percy Bysshe Shelley

  Night, Blue, Years

  Percy Bysshe Shelley (1830). “The Beauties of Percy Bysshe Shelley: Consisting of Miscellaneous Selections from His Poetical Works. The Entire Poems of Adonais and Alastor, and a Revised Edition of Queen Mab, Free from All the Objectionable Passages. With a Biographical Preface”, p.214

• One word is too often profaned For me to profane it, One feeling too falsely disdain'd For thee to disdain it. One hope too like dispair For prudence to smother, I can give not what men call love: But wilt thou accept not The worship the heart lifts above And heaven rejects not: The desire of the moth for the star, The devotion of something afar From the sphere of our sorrow?

  Percy Bysshe Shelley

  Stars, Heart, Men

  Percy Bysshe Shelley, “To”

• [L]ike thee to those in sorrow, Comes to bid a sweet good-morrow To the rough year just awake In its cradle on the brake. The brightest hour of unborn Spring, Through the winter wandering, Found, it seems, the halcyon Morn To hoar February born.

  Percy Bysshe Shelley

  Sweet, Spring, Winter

  Percy Bysshe Shelley (1853). “The Poetical Works of Percy Bysshe Shelley: Complete in One Volume”, p.612

• I am gone into the fields To take what this sweet hour yields; Reflection, you may come to-morrow, Sit by the fireside with Sorrow. You with the unpaid bill, Despair, You, tiresome verse-reciter, Care, I will pay you in the grave, Death will listen to your stave.

  Percy Bysshe Shelley

  Sweet, Reflection, Yield

  Percy Bysshe Shelley (1874). “The Poetical Works of Percy Bysshe Shelley; Essays, Letters from Abroad, Translations and Fragments”, p.307

• Where art thou, beloved To-morrow?
  When young and old, and strong and weak,
  Rich and poor, through joy and sorrow,
  Thy sweet smiles we ever seek,--
  In thy place--ah! well-a-day!
  We find the thing we fled--To-day!

  Percy Bysshe Shelley

  Sweet, Art, Strong

  Samuel Taylor Coleridge, Percy Bysshe Shelley, John Keats (1831). “The poetical works of Coleridge, Shelley, and Keats”, p.477

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