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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
Lasts
Last
Even
Brightest
Always
Kisses
Sweetest
Kissing
Smile
Movement

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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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Like a mermaid in sea-weed, she dreams awake, trembling in her soft and chilly nest.
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Philosophy will clip an angel's wings.
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A man should have the fine point of his soul taken off to become fit for this world.
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I will clamber through the clouds and exist.
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Thou foster-child of Silence and slow Time.
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Nothing is finer for the purposes of great productions than a very gradual ripening of the intellectual powers.
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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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She press'd his hand in slumber so once more He could not help but kiss her and adore.
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... the open sky sits upon our senses like a sapphire crown - the Air is our robe of state - the Earth is our throne, and the Sea a mighty minstrel playing before it.
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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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Feeling well that breathed words Would all be lost, unheard, and vain as swords Against the enchased crocodile, or leaps Of grasshoppers against the sun.
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My heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains/ My sense, as though of hemlock I had drunk.
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When old age shall this generation waste, Thou shalt remain, in midst of other woe Than ours, a friend to man, to whom thou say'st, Beauty is truth, truth beauty, - that is all Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know.
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Dancing music, music sad, Both together, sane and mad.
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Even bees, the little almsmen of spring bowers, know there is richest juice in poison-flowers.
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I am convinced more and more day by day that fine writing is next to fine doing, the top thing in the world.
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The genius of Shakespeare was an innate university.
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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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