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Percy Bysshe Shelley Quotes about Children

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Christianity indeed has equaled Judaism in the atrocities, and exceeded it in the extent of its desolation. Eleven millions of men, women, and children have been killed in battle, butchered in their sleep, burned to

Christianity indeed has equaled Judaism in the atrocities, and exceeded it in the extent of its desolation. Eleven millions of men, women, and children have been killed in battle, butchered in their sleep, burned to death at public festivals of sacrifice, poisoned, tortured, assassinated, and pillaged in the spirit of the Religion of Peace, and for the glory of the most merciful God.

Percy Bysshe Shelley
Religious, Children, Sleep
Percy Bysshe Shelley, Homer, Euripides, Pedro Calderón de la Barca, Johann Wolfgang von Goethe (1929). “The Complete Works of Percy Bysshe Shelley”

I could lie down like a tired child, And weep away the life of care Which I have borne, and yet must bear.

Percy Bysshe Shelley
Life, Children, Lying
Percy Bysshe Shelley (1847). “The Works of Percy Bysshe Shelley”, p.227

If we reason, we would be understood; if we imagine, we would that the airy children of our brain were born anew within another's; if we feel, we would that another's nerves should vibrate to our own, that the beams of their eyes should kindle at once and mix and melt into our own, that lips of motionless ice should not reply to lips quivering and burning with the heart's best blood. This is Love.

Percy Bysshe Shelley
Love, Children, Eye
Percy Bysshe Shelley (1874). “The Works of Percy Bysshe Shelley”

But hope will make thee young, for Hope and Youth Are children of one mother, even Love.

Percy Bysshe Shelley
Mother, Hope, Children
Percy Bysshe Shelley (1853). “The Poetical Works of Percy Bysshe Shelley: Complete in One Volume”, p.151

I was an infant when my mother went To see an atheist burned. She took me there. The dark-robed priests were met around the pile; The multitude was gazing silently; And as the culprit passed with dauntless mien, Tempered disdain in his unaltering eye, Mixed with a quiet smile, shone calmly forth; The thirsty fire crept round his manly limbs; His resolute eyes were scorched to blindness soon; His death-pang rent my heart! the insensate mob Uttered a cry of triumph, and I wept. Weep not, child! cried my mother, for that man Has said, 'There is no God.'

Percy Bysshe Shelley
Mother, Atheist, Children
Percy Bysshe Shelley (2004). “The Complete Poetry of Percy Bysshe Shelley”, p.429, JHU Press

Ere Babylon was dust, The Magus Zoroaster, my dead child, Met his own image walking in the garden, That apparition, sole of men, he saw.

Percy Bysshe Shelley
Children, Men, Garden
'Prometheus Unbound' (1819) act 1, l. 191

The old laws of England they Whose reverend heads with age are gray, Children of a wiser day; And whose solemn voice must be Thine own echo Liberty!

Percy Bysshe Shelley
Children, Echoes, Law
Percy Bysshe Shelley, Mary Wollstonecraft Godwin Shelley (1855). “The Poetical Works of Percy Bysshe Shelley: In Three Volumes”, p.431

Know ye what it is to be a child? It is to have a spirit yet streaming from the waters of baptism; it is to believe in love, to believe in loveliness, to believe in belief.

Percy Bysshe Shelley
Children, Believe, Water

My neighbour, or my servant, or my child, has done me an injury, and it is just that he should suffer an injury in return. Such is the doctrine which Jesus Christ summoned his whole resources of persuasion to oppose.

Percy Bysshe Shelley
Jesus, Children, Suffering
Percy Bysshe Shelley (1859). “Shelley Memorials: From Authentic Sources : Now First Printed”, p.262

Know what it is to be a child? It is to be something very different from the man of today. It is to have a spirit yet streaming from the waters of Baptism; it is to believe in belief; it is to be so little that elves can reach to whisper in your ear; it is to turn pumpkins into coaches, and mice into horses, lowness into loftiness, and nothing into everything, for each child had its fairy godmother in its soul.

Percy Bysshe Shelley
Faith, Horse, Children

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 Shelley
Children, Rain, Clouds
'The Cloud' (1819)

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