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Scenery is fine - but human nature is finer.

John Keats

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John Keats
Age: 25 †
Born: 1795
Born: October 31
Died: 1821
Died: February 23
Judge-Rapporteur
Physician
Poet
Nature
Human
Humans
Finer
Scenery
Fine

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I wish I was either in your arms full of faith, or that a Thunder bolt would strike me.
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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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All my clear-eyed fish, Golden, or rainbow-sided, or purplish, Vermilion-tail'd, or finn'd with silvery gauze... My charming rod, my potent river spells.
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No, no, I'm sure, My restless spirit never could endure To brood so long upon one luxury, Unless it did, though fearfully, espy A hope beyond the shadow of a dream.
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Sudden a thought came like a full-blown rose, Flushing his brow.
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I find I cannot exist without Poetry
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O for the gentleness of old Romance, the simple planning of a minstrel's song!
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I will imagine you Venus tonight and pray, pray, pray to your star like a Heathen.
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My friends should drink a dozen of Claret on my Tomb.
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No sooner had I stepp'd into these pleasures Than I began to think of rhymes and measures: The air that floated by me seem'd to say 'Write! thou wilt never have a better day.
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Through buried paths, where sleepy twilight dreams The summer time away.
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All writing is a form of prayer.
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Philosophy will clip an angel's wings, Conquer all mysteries by rule and line, Empty the haunted air, and gnomed mine - Unweave a rainbow.
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O magic sleep! O comfortable bird, That broodest o'er the troubled sea of the mind Till it is hush'd and smooth!
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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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Turn the key deftly in the oiled wards, And seal the hushed Casket of my Soul.
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There is an awful warmth about my heart like a load of immortality.
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The silver, snarling trumpets 'gan to chide.
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My love is selfish. I cannot breathe without you.
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I came to feel how far above All fancy, pride, and fickle maidenhood, All earthly pleasure, all imagined good, Was the warm tremble of a devout kiss.
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