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A thing of beauty is a joy forever.

John Keats

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John Keats
Age: 25 †
Born: 1795
Born: October 31
Died: 1821
Died: February 23
Judge-Rapporteur
Physician
Poet
Thing
Garden
Joy
Beauty
Forever
Happiness
Nature

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All writing is a form of prayer.
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Turn the key deftly in the oiled wards, And seal the hushed Casket of my Soul.
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But the rose leaves herself upon the brier, For winds to kiss and grateful bees to feed.
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The poetry of the earth is never dead.
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Load every rift with ore.
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O fret not after knowledge - I have none, and yet my song comes native with the warmth. O fret not after knowledge - I have none, and yet the Evening listens.
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O, sorrow! Why dost borrow Heart's lightness from the merriment of May?
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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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Sweet are the pleasures that to verse belong, And doubly sweet a brotherhood in song.
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An extensive knowledge is needful to thinking people-it takes away the heat and fever and helps, by widening speculation, to ease the burden of the mystery.
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The thought, the deadly thought of solitude.
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I love your hills and I love your dales, And I love your flocks a-bleating but oh, on the heather to lie together, With both our hearts a-beating!
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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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Everything that reminds me of her goes through me like a spear.
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The redbreast whistles from a garden-croft and gathering swallows twitter in the skies.
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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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The silver, snarling trumpets 'gan to chide.
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So, when dark thoughts my boding spirit shroud, Sweet Hope! celestial influence round me shed Waving thy silver pinions o'er my head.
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I almost wish we were butterflies and liv'd but three summer days - three such days with you I could fill with more delight than fifty common years could ever contain.
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Works of genius are the first things in the world.
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