Shelley

The man
Of virtuous soul commands not, nor obeys:
Power, like a desolating pestilence,
Pollutes whate'er it touches, & obedience,
Bane of all genius, virtue, freedom, truth,
Makes slaves of men, &, of the human frame,
A mechanised automaton.


­ Shelley



Search:



Powered By Movable Type 4.1

Copyright © 2004-2008
George Scialabba