O wild West Wind, thou breath of Autumn’s being, / Thou, from whose unseen presence the leaves dead / Are driven, like ghosts from an enchanter fleeing, / Yellow, and black, and pale, and hectic red, / Pestilence-stricken multitudes.

-Percy Bysshe Shelley

Select a background
Awesome background image
Awesome background image
Awesome background image
Awesome background image
Awesome background image
Awesome background image
Awesome background image
Awesome background image
Awesome background image
Awesome background image
Awesome background image
Awesome background image
Awesome background image
Awesome background image
Awesome background image
Awesome background image
Awesome background image
Awesome background image
Awesome background image
Awesome background image
Awesome background image
Awesome background image
Awesome background image
Awesome background image
Awesome background image
Awesome background image
Awesome background image
Awesome background image
Awesome background image

More quotes by Percy Bysshe Shelley