“I think that the leaf of a tree, the meanest insect on which we trample, are in themselves arguments more conclusive than any which can be adduced that some vast intellect animates Infinity.”
Other Percy Bysshe Shelley Quotes
Love is free; to promise for ever to love the same woman is not less absurd than to promise to believe the same creed; such a vow in both cases excludes us from all inquiry.
Percy Bysshe Shelley 
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Music, when soft voices die Vibrates in the memory.
Percy Bysshe Shelley
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History is a cyclic poem written by time upon the memories of man.
Percy Bysshe Shelley
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