Now I shall go to sleep. Goodnight.

But every fool describes, in these bright days, His wondrous journey to some foreign court, And spawns his quarto, and demands your praise,-- Death to his publisher, to him 'tis sport.

History - the devil's scripture

This sort of adoration of the real is but a heightening of the beau ideal.

To what gulfs A single deviation from the track Of human duties leads even those who claim The homage of mankind as their born due, And find it, till they forfeit it themselves!

Shelley is truth itself and honour itself notwithstanding his out-of-the-way notions about religion.

No hand can make the clock strike for me the hours that are passed.