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Not the swart Pariah in some Indian grove,
Lone, lean, and hunted by his brother's hate,
Hath drunk so deep the cup of bitter fate
As that poor wretch who cannot, cannot love:
He bears a load which nothing can remove,
A killing, withering weight.

— Percy Bysshe Shelley The Solitary (1810)

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More quotes by Percy Bysshe Shelley

The sunlight clasps the earth,
And the moonbeams kiss the sea:
What are all these kissings worth
If thou kiss not me?

Love's Philosophy (1819)

The king ...
like the vulgar, thinks, feels, acts, and lives
Just as his father did; the unconquered powers
Of precedent and custom interpose
Between a king and virtue.

Queen Mab (1813)

Honour sits smiling at the sale of truth.

Queen Mab (1813)

Familiar acts are beautiful through love.

The lone couch of his everlasting sleep.

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Quote text and notes from Wikiquote: Percy Bysshe Shelley (page history), available under CC BY-SA 4.0. Source quality and labels are our own summary of what Wikiquote records.