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
Literature
Loveliness
Hours
Luxury
Death
Minute
Two
Possession
Hour
Walking
Minutes
Brood
Walks
Luxuries

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To bear all naked truths, And to envisage circumstance, all calm, That is the top of sovereignty
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I am sailing with thee through the dizzy sky! How beautiful thou art!
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My love is selfish. I cannot breathe without you.
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The genius of Shakespeare was an innate university.
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It keeps eternal whisperings around desolate shores
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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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one of the most mysterious of semi-speculations is, one would suppose, that of one Mind's imagining into another
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A thing of beauty is a joy forever.
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I will imagine you Venus tonight and pray, pray, pray to your star like a Heathen.
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The redbreast whistles from a garden-croft and gathering swallows twitter in the skies.
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How beautiful, if sorrow had not made Sorrow more beautiful than Beauty's self.
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Heard melodies are sweet, but those unheard Are sweeter therefore, ye soft pipes, play on Not to the sensual ear, but, more endear'd, Pipe to the spirit ditties of no tone.
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The world is too brutal for me-I am glad there is such a thing as the grave-I am sure I shall never have any rest till I get there.
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O for a life of Sensations rather than of Thoughts!
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My mind has been the most discontented and restless one that ever was put into a body too small for it.... I never felt my mind repose upon anything with complete and undistracted enjoyment- upon no person but you. When you are in the room my thoughts never fly out of window: you always concentrate my whole senses
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And there shall be for thee all soft delight That shadowy thought can win, A bright torch, and a casement ope at night, To let the warm Love in!
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Give me books, French wine, fruit, fine weather and a little music played out of doors by somebody I do not know.
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Who would wish to be among the commonplace crowd of the little famous - who are each individually lost in a throng made up of themselves?
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Pensive they sit, and roll their languid eyes.
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