High Light

Mont Blanc yet gleams on high:--the power is there, The still and solemn power of many sights, -Percy Bysshe Shelley, Mont Blanc, 1817

Everlasting Universe

The everlasting universe of things Flows through the mind, and rolls its rapid waves, Now dark--now glittering--now reflecting gloom-- Now lending splendour, where from secret springs The source of human thought its tribute brings -Percy Bysshe Shelley, Mont Blanc, 1817

Fire and Ice

Some say the world will end in fire, Some say in ice. From what I've tasted of desire I hold with those who favor fire. -Robert Frost, Fire and Ice, 1923

Mountain Flames

Bursting through these dark mountains like the flame Of lightning through the tempest; -Percy Bysshe Shelley, Mont Blanc, 1817

Insignificance of Man

The significance of man is that he is that part of the universe that asks the question, What is the significance of Man? He alone can stand apart imaginatively and, regarding himself and the universe in their eternal aspects, pronounce a judgement: The significance of man is that he is insignificant and is aware of it. -Carl Lotus Becker, Progress and Power, 1935

Strive and Agonize

I do what many dream of, all their lives, --Dream? strive to do, and agonize to do, And fail in doing, I could count twenty such On twice your fingers, and not leave this town -Robert Browning, Andrea del Sarto, 1855

Desert of Ice

A desert peopled by the storms alone, -Percy Bysshe Shelley, Mont Blanc, 1817

Dark Throne

Thus thou, Ravine of Arve--dark, deep Ravine-- Thou many-colour'd, many-voiced vale, Over whose pines, and crags, and caverns sail Fast cloud-shadows and sunbeams: awful scene, Where Power in likeness of the Arve comes down From the ice-gulfs that gird his secret throne, -Percy Bysshe Shelley, Mont Blanc, 1817

City of Ice

The glaciers creep Like snakes that watch their prey, from their far fountains, Slow rolling on; there, many a precipice Frost and the Sun in scorn of mortal power Have pil'd: dome, pyramid, and pinnacle, A city of death, distinct with many a tower And wall impregnable of beaming ice. -Percy Bysshe Shelley, Mont Blanc, 1817