Quote

I have two luxuries to brood over in my walks, your loveliness and the hour of my death. O that I could have possession of them both in the same minute.

John Keats

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John Keats
Age: 25 †
Born: 1795
Born: October 31
Died: 1821
Died: February 23
Judge-Rapporteur
Physician
Poet
Hour
Walking
Minutes
Brood
Walks
Luxuries
Literature
Loveliness
Hours
Luxury
Death
Minute
Two
Possession

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Young playmates of the rose and daffodil, Be careful ere ye enter in, to fill Your baskets high With fennel green, and balm, and golden pines Savory latter-mint, and columbines.
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There is a budding tomorrow in midnight.
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Pensive they sit, and roll their languid eyes.
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'Tis the witching hour of night, Orbed is the moon and bright. And the stars they glisten, glisten, Seeming with bright eyes to listen- For what listen they?
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Stop and consider! life is but a day
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In a drear-nighted December, Too happy, happy brook, Thy bubblings ne'er remember Apollo's summer look But with a sweet forgetting, They stay their crystal fretting, Never, never petting About the frozen time.
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O let me lead her gently o'er the brook, Watch her half-smiling lips and downward look O let me for one moment touch her wrist Let me one moment to her breathing list And as she leaves me, may she often turn Her fair eyes looking through her locks auburne.
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There is nothing stable in the world uproar's your only music.
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My love is selfish. I cannot breathe without you.
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Darkling I listen and, for many a time I have been half in love with easeful Death, Called him soft names in many a muse' d rhyme, To take into the air my quiet breath Now more than ever seems it rich to die, To cease upon the midnight with no pain, While thou art pouring forth thy soul abroad In such an ecstasy!
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Everything that reminds me of her goes through me like a spear.
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O for a life of Sensations rather than of Thoughts!
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The uttered part of a man's life, let us always repeat, bears to the unuttered, unconscious part a small unknown proportion. He himself never knows it, much less do others.
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Now a soft kiss - Aye, by that kiss, I vow an endless bliss.
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The only means of strengthening one's intellect is to make up one's mind about nothing, to let the mind be a thoroughfare for all thoughts.
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The silver, snarling trumpets 'gan to chide.
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Philosophy will clip an angel's wings.
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I never can feel certain of any truth, but from a clear perception of its beauty.
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Knowledge enormous makes a god of me.
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And shade the violets, That they may bind the moss in leafy nets.
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