What is Death, so it be but glorious? 'Tis a sunset; And mortals may be happy to resemble The Gods but in decay.
Shelley is truth itself and honour itself notwithstanding his out-of-the-way notions about religion.
No ear can hear nor tongue can tell the tortures of the inward hell!
Champagne with its foaming whirls/As white as Cleopatra's pearls.
And wrinkles, the damned democrats, won't flatter.
I doubt sometimes whether a quiet and unagitated life would have suited me - yet I sometimes long for it.