A dream has power to poison sleep.
Percy Bysshe ShelleyRead
The cemetery is an open space among the ruins, covered in winter with violets and daisies. It might make one in love with death, to think that one should be buried in so sweet a place.
Interpretation
What this quote means
The quote reflects on the beauty of a cemetery, suggesting that the peacefulness of such places can induce a romanticized view of death.
Percy Bysshe Shelley poetically describes a cemetery as a serene and beautiful space, adorned with flowers even in winter. This imagery invokes a sense of tranquility and a profound connection to nature, prompting contemplation about death and the allure of finding beauty even in final resting places. Shelley's words suggest that one might even grow to appreciate the idea of death if it means being surrounded by such sweet, comforting surroundings.
Themes
CemeteryDeathBeautyNatureRomanticism
In practice
Example use cases
In a speech about finding peace in nature, one might quote Shelley to illustrate how beauty exists in all aspects of life, even death.
More from Percy Bysshe Shelley
All quotes →Senseless is the breast and cold _x000D_ _x000D_ Which relenting love would fold;_x000D_ _x000D_ Bloodless are the veins and chill _x000D_ _x000D_ Which the pulse of pain did fill; _x000D_ _x000D_ Every little living nerve _x000D_ _x000D_ That from bitter words did swerve _x000D_ _x000D_ Round the tortur'd lips and brow, _x000D_ _x000D_ Are like sapless leaflets now _x000D_ _x000D_ Frozen upon December's bough.
Percy Bysshe ShelleyRead
A sensitive plant in a garden grew,_x000D_ _x000D_ And the young winds fed it with silver dew,_x000D_ _x000D_ And it opened its fan_x000D_ _x000D_ like leaves to the light,_x000D_ _x000D_ and closed them beneath the kisses of night.
Percy Bysshe ShelleyRead
I am the daughter of Earth and Water, And the nursling of the Sky; I pass through the pores of the ocean and shores; I change, but I cannot die. For after the rain when with never a stain The pavilion of Heaven is bare, And the winds and sunbeams with their convex gleams Build up the blue dome of air, I silently laugh at my own cenotaph, And out of the caverns of rain, Like a child from the womb, like a ghost from the tomb, I arise and unbuild it again.
Percy Bysshe ShelleyRead
O, wind, if winter comes, can spring be far behind?
Percy Bysshe ShelleyRead
Ah, woe is me! Winter is come and gone. But grief returns with the revolving year.
Percy Bysshe ShelleyRead
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