“I fall upon the thorns of life! I bleed!”

Ode to the West Wind, Percy Bysshe Shelley

“For there are ... sufferings which have no tongue.”

The Cenci, Percy Bysshe Shelley

“And like a dying lady, lean and pale,
Who totters forth, wrapped in a gauzy veil,
Out of her chamber, led by the insane
And feeble wanderings of her fading brain,
The moon arose up in the murky East,
A white and shapeless mass—”

The Waning Moon, Percy Bysshe Shelley