Frases de Percy Bysshe Shelley

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“Deu ao homem a linguagem, e a linguagem criou o pensamento,
Que é a medida do Universo.”

“Chorais, ó infelizes, mas essas não serão vossas últimas lágrimas! Mais uma vez entregar-vos-ei ao pranto fúnebre, e o som de vossas lamentações será ouvido mais e mais.”

“Por tudo o que é sagrado em nossas esperanças pela humanidade, conclamo aqueles que desejam o bem-estar da humanidade e amam a verdade a examinarem, sem preconceito, os ensinamentos do vegetarianismo.”

“Quanto mais estudamos mais descobrimos a nossa ignorância.”

“O que eu mais quero é ser feliz… Melhor seria com você do meu lado. Mas se isso não for possível que Deus não me deixe sofrer de amor.”

“As almas se encontram nos lábios dos enamorados.”

“Ao contrário do ouro e do barro, o verdadeiro amor, dividido, não diminui.”

“Todo amor é doce, dado ou recebido.”

“Ai de mim! A vida se prende obstinadamente àquilo que mais odeia.”

“O cálice da vida estava envenenado para sempre e, o coração feliz e alegre, nada via em torno de mim senão uma treva densa e terrível, que nenhuma luz penetrava…”

“Quem não ama o seu semelhante vive uma vida estéril e prepara um túmulo triste para a sua velhice.”

“Procurar não significa nada. O importante é encontrar.”

“O inferno é uma cidade muito parecida com Londres
Uma cidade com muita gente e muito fumo.”

“O dinheiro é um Deus vivo.”

“Primeiro, morrem nossos prazeres; depois, nossas esperanças; depois nossos temores. E, então, nossa dívida vence: O pó reivindica o pó, e morremos por nossa vez.”

“É somente pelo amaciamento e disfarce da carne morta através do preparo culinário, que ela é tornada susceptível de mastigação ou digestão e que a visão de seus sucos sangrentos e horror puro não criam um desgosto e abominação intoleráveis.”

“Deus é uma hipótese, e, como tal, depende de prova: o ônus da prova cabe ao teísta.”

“Certo prazer existente na tristeza é mais doce do que o prazer do prazer.”

“Você me odeia, mas seu ódio não pode igualar-se ao que eu próprio dedico a mim.”

“Contemplei o coitado… o desgraçado monstro que eu havia criado.”

“O ontem do homem talvez jamais seja como o seu amanhã: nada perdura, a não ser a instabilidade.”

“Os poetas são os legisladores do mundo, não reconhecidos.”

“A poesia é um espelho que torna bonito aquilo que é distorcido.”

“Ser omnipotente mas sem amigos é reinar.”

“Se o inverno chegou, a primavera não estará distante.”

“It is probable that what we call thought is not an actual being, but no more than the relation between certain parts of that infinitely varied mass, of which the rest of the universe is composed, and which ceases to exist as soon as those parts change their position with regard to each other.”

“Poetry is the record of the best and happiest moments of the happiest and best minds.”

“Change is certain. Peace is followed by disturbances; departure of evil men by their return. Such recurrences should not constitute occasions for sadness but realities for awareness, so that one may be happy in the interim.”

“Sing again, with your dear voice revealing
A tone
Of some world far from ours,
Where music and moonlight and feeling
Are one.”

“Some say that gleams of a remoter world
Visit the soul in sleep, — that death is slumber,
And that its shapes the busy thoughts outnumber
Of those who wake and live.”

“… they who wore
Mitres and helms and crowns, or wreaths of light,
Signs of thought's empire over thought —their lore
Taught them not this, to know themselves; their might
Could not repress the mystery within.”

“The intense atom glows
A moment, then is quenched in a most cold repose.”

“On a poet's lips I slept
Dreaming like a love-adept
In the sound his breathing kept.”

“To suffer woes which Hope thinks infinite;
To forgive wrongs darker than Death or Night;
To defy Power, which seems Omnipotent;
To love, and bear; to hope, till Hope creates
From its own wreck the thing it contemplates;
Neither to change nor falter nor repent;
This, like thy glory, Titan! is to be
Good, great and joyous, beautiful and free;
This is alone Life; Joy, Empire, and Victory!”

“Best and brightest, come away!”

“The body is placed under the earth, and after a certain period there remains no vestige even of its form. This is that contemplation of inexhaustible melancholy, whose shadow eclipses the brightness of the world. The common observer is struck with dejection of the spectacle. He contends in vain against the persuasion of the grave, that the dead indeed cease to be. The corpse at his feet is prophetic of his own destiny. Those who have preceded him, and whose voice was delightful to his ear; whose touch met his like sweet and subtle fire: whose aspect spread a visionary light upon his path — these he cannot meet again.”

“Once, early in the morning,
Beelzebub arose,
With care his sweet person adorning,
He put on his Sunday clothes.”

“If he is infinitely good, what reason should we have to fear him?
If he is infinitely wise, why should we have doubts concerning our future?
If he knows all, why warn him of our needs and fatigue him with our prayers?
If he is everywhere, why erect temples to him?
If he is just, why fear that he will punish the creatures that he has filled with weaknesses?
If grace does everything for them, what reason would he have for recompensing them?
If he is all-powerful, how offend him, how resist him?
If he is reasonable, how can he be angry at the blind, to whom he has given the liberty of being unreasonable?
If he is immovable, by what right do we pretend to make him change his decrees?
If he is inconceivable, why occupy ourselves with him?
If he has spoken, why is the universe not convinced?
If the knowledge of a God is the most necessary, why is it not the most evident and the clearest?”

“And he wore a kingly crown;
And in his grasp a sceptre shone;
On his brow this mark I saw —
'I AM GOD, AND KING, AND LAW!”

“As I lay asleep in Italy
There came a voice from over the Sea,
And with great power it forth led me
To walk in the visions of Poesy.”

“Then black despair,
The shadow of a starless night, was thrown
Over the world in which I moved alone.”

“Thy light alone like mist o'er mountains driven,
Or music by the night-wind sent
Through strings of some still instrument,
Or moonlight on a midnight stream,
Gives grace and truth to life's unquiet dream.”

“There is no sport in hate where all the rage
Is on one side.”

“And many more Destructions played
In this ghastly masquerade,
All disguised, even to the eyes,
Like Bishops, lawyers, peers, or spies.”

“He died,
Who was the Sire of an immortal strain,
Blind, old, and lonely.”

“He gave man speech, and speech created thought,
Which is the measure of the universe.”

“First our pleasures die — and then
Our hopes, and then our fears — and when
These are dead, the debt is due,
Dust claims dust — and we die too.”

“Rarely, rarely, comest thou,
Spirit of Delight!
Wherefore hast thou left me now
Many a day and night?
Many a weary night and day
'Tis since thou are fled away.”

“By all that is sacred in our hopes for the human race, I conjure those who love happiness and truth, to give a fair trial to the vegetable system.”

“And man … no longer now
He slays the lamb that looks him in the face,
And horribly devours his mangled flesh.”

“It has been the persuasion of an immense majority of human beings in all ages and nations that we continue to live after death,—that apparent termination of all the functions of sensitive and intellectual existence. Nor has mankind been contented with supposing that species of existence which some philosophers have asserted; namely, the resolution of the component parts of the mechanism of a living being into its elements, and the impossibility of the minutest particle of these sustaining the smallest diminution. They have clung to the idea that sensibility and thought, which they have distinguished from the objects of it, under the several names of spirit and matter, is, in its own nature, less susceptible of division and decay, and that, when the body is resolved into its elements, the principle which animated it will remain perpetual and unchanged.”

“What! alive, and so bold, O earth?”

“You would not easily guess
All the modes of distress
Which torture the tenants of earth;
And the various evils,
Which like so many devils,
Attend the poor souls from their birth.”

“To that high Capital, where kingly Death
Keeps his pale court in beauty and decay,
He came.”