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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.

John Keats

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John Keats
Age: 25 †
Born: 1795
Born: October 31
Died: 1821
Died: February 23
Judge-Rapporteur
Physician
Poet
Men
Friend
Shalt
Shall
Woe
Beauty
Midst
Age
Thou
Truth
Remain
Earth
Generation
Need
Waste
Needs
Generations

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Parting they seemed to tread upon the air, Twin roses by the zephyr blown apart Only to meet again more close.
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To stay youthful, stay useful.
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Oh what can ail thee, knight-at-arms, Alone and palely loitering?
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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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The air is all softness.
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Joy, whose hand is ever at his lips, bidding adieu
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The imagination of a boy is healthy, and the mature imagination of a man is healthy but there is a space of life between, in which the soul is in a ferment, the character undecided, the way of life uncertain, the ambition thick-sighted: thence proceeds mawkishness.
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My imagination is a monastery and I am its monk.
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Every mental pursuit takes its reality and worth from the ardour of the pursuer.
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I never can feel certain of any truth, but from a clear perception of its beauty.
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Then felt I like some watcher of the skies when a new planet swims into his ken.
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A long poem is a test of invention which I take to be the Polar star of poetry, as fancy is the sails, and imagination the rudder.
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I have two luxuries to brood over in my walks, your loveliness and the hour of my death. O that I could have possession of them both in the same minute.
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When I have fears that I may ceace to be, Before my pen has gleaned my teaming brain.
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Poetry should be great and unobtrusive, a thing which enters into one's soul, and does not startle it or amaze it with itself, but with its subject.
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Fanatics have their dreams, wherewith they weave a paradise for a sect.
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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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I came to feel how far above All fancy, pride, and fickle maidenhood, All earthly pleasure, all imagined good, Was the warm tremble of a devout kiss.
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