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With a great poet the sense of Beauty overcomes every other consideration, or rather obliterates all consideration.

John Keats

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John Keats
Age: 25 †
Born: 1795
Born: October 31
Died: 1821
Died: February 23
Judge-Rapporteur
Physician
Poet
Every
Genocide
Consideration
Overcoming
Poet
Beauty
Rather
Sense
Obliterates
Great
Overcomes

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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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Poetry should surprise by a fine excess and not by singularity, it should strike the reader as a wording of his own highest thoughts, and appear almost a remembrance.
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Bright star, would I were steadfast as thou art-- Not in lone splendour hung aloft the night And watching, with eternal lids apart, Like nature's patient, sleepless Eremite.
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Fade far away, dissolve, and quite forget.
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...yes, in spite of all, Some shape of beauty moves away the pall From out dark spirits.
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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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The excellence of every Art is its intensity.
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No one can usurp the heights... But those to whom the miseries of the world Are misery, and will not let them rest.
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Joy, whose hand is ever at his lips, bidding adieu
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was it a vision or a waking dream? Fled is that music--do I wake or sleep?
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The opinion I have of the generality of women--who appear to me as children to whom I would rather give a sugar plum than my time, forms a barrier against matrimony which I rejoice in.
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Love in a hut, with water and a crust, Is - Love, forgive us! - cinders, ashes, dust.
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In a drear-nighted December, Too happy, happy tree, Thy branches ne'er remember Their green felicity.
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Time, that aged nurse, Rocked me to patience.
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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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O for the gentleness of old Romance, the simple planning of a minstrel's song!
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A poet without love were a physical and metaphysical impossibility.
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The genius of Shakespeare was an innate university.
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To one who has been long in city pent, ’Tis very sweet to look into the fair And open face of heaven, — to breathe a prayer Full in the smile of the blue firmament.
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I would jump down Etna for any public good - but I hate a mawkish popularity.
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