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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.

John Keats

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John Keats
Age: 25 †
Born: 1795
Born: October 31
Died: 1821
Died: February 23
Judge-Rapporteur
Physician
Poet
Book
Fine
Giving
Somebody
Food
French
Books
Weather
Give
Fruit
Littles
Played
Music
Wine
Little
Doors

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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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Faded the flower and all its budded charms,Faded the sight of beauty from my eyes,Faded the shape of beauty from my arms,Faded the voice, warmth, whiteness, paradise!Vanishd unseasonably
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It is a flaw In happiness to see beyond our bourn, - It forces us in summer skies to mourn, It spoils the singing of the nightingale.
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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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The genius of Shakespeare was an innate university.
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Fade far away, dissolve, and quite forget.
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Dancing music, music sad, Both together, sane and mad.
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She press'd his hand in slumber so once more He could not help but kiss her and adore.
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The Public - a thing I cannot help looking upon as an enemy, and which I cannot address without feelings of hostility.
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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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...yes, in spite of all, Some shape of beauty moves away the pall From out dark spirits.
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There is an electric fire in human nature tending to purify - so that among these human creatures there is continually some birth of new heroism. The pity is that we must wonder at it, as we should at finding a pearl in rubbish.
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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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Call the world if you please the vale of soul-making. Then you will find out the use of the world.
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Thou foster-child of Silence and slow Time.
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We must repeat the often repeated saying, that it is unworthy a religious man to view an irreligious one either with alarm or aversion, or with any other feeling than regret and hope and brotherly commiseration.
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O, sorrow! Why dost borrow Heart's lightness from the merriment of May?
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A drainless shower Of light is poesy: 'tis the supreme of power 'Tis might half slumbering on its own right arm.
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I find I cannot exist without Poetry
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Why employ intelligent and highly paid ambassadors and then go and do their work for them? You don't buy a canary and sing yourself.
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