Oh, is it, Percy? Is that your custom? I mean, HONESTLY.
…and the nights are for ever serene, and we see a star in the east at sunset–I think it is Jupiter–almost as fine as Venus was last summer; but it wants a certain silver and aerial radiance, and soft yet piercing splendour, which belongs, I suppose, to the latter planet by virtue of its at once divine and female nature.
Also, his words on Frankenstein:
yet it proves that it is read in some considerable degree, and it would be difficult for them, with any appearance of fairness, to deny it merit altogether.
Here’s another one of his extraordinary letters.
This cathedral is a most astonishing work of art. It is built of white marble, and cut into pinnacles of immense height, and the utmost delicacy of workmanship, and loaded with sculpture. The effect of it, piercing the solid blue with those groups of dazzling spires, relieved by the serene depth of this Italian heaven, or by moonlight when the stars seem gathered among those clustered shapes, is beyond anything I had imagined architeture capable of producing.
Some quotes I’ve put on my blog about Shelley:
“Shelley was a volatile creature …
