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You are always new. The last of your kisses was even the sweetest the last smile the brightest the last movement the gracefullest.

John Keats

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John Keats
Age: 25 †
Born: 1795
Born: October 31
Died: 1821
Died: February 23
Judge-Rapporteur
Physician
Poet
Sweetest
Kissing
Smile
Movement
Lasts
Last
Even
Brightest
Always
Kisses

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As the Swiss inscription says: Sprechen ist silbern, Schweigen ist golden,- Speech is silvern, Silence is golden or, as I might rather express it, Speech is of Time, Silence is of Eternity.
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Here are sweet peas, on tiptoe for a flight With wings of gentle flush o'er delicate white, And taper fingers catching at all things, To bind them all about with tiny rings.
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The only means of strengthening one's intellect is to make up one's mind about nothing, to let the mind be a thoroughfare for all thoughts.
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I have met with women whom I really think would like to be married to a Poem and to be given away by a Novel.
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The thought, the deadly thought of solitude.
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Blessed is the healthy nature it is the coherent, sweetly co-operative, not incoherent, self-distracting, self-destructive one!
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Can death be sleep, when life is but a dream, And scenes of bliss pass as a phantom by? ---On death
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Four seasons fill the measure of the year there are four seasons in the minds of men.
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I see a lily on thy brow, With anguish moist and fever dew And on thy cheek a fading rose Fast withereth too.
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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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Its better to lose your ego to the One you Love than to lose the One you Love to your Ego
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I am certain of nothing but the holiness of the heart's affections, and the truth of imagination.
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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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I am in that temper that if I were under water I would scarcely kick to come to the top.
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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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I never can feel certain of any truth, but from a clear perception of its beauty.
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...I leaped headlong into the Sea, and thereby have become more acquainted with the Soundings, the quicksands, and the rocks, than if I had stayed upon the green shore, and piped a silly pipe, and took tea and comfortable advice.
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Scenery is fine - but human nature is finer.
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You speak of Lord Byron and me there is this great difference between us. He describes what he sees I describe what I imagine. Mine is the hardest task.
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That queen of secrecy, the violet.
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