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You have absorb'd me. I have a sensation at the present moment as though I was dissolving.

John Keats

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John Keats
Age: 25 †
Born: 1795
Born: October 31
Died: 1821
Died: February 23
Judge-Rapporteur
Physician
Poet
Dissolving
Absorb
Sensation
Sensations
Present
Though
Moment
Moments
Forgetful

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O for a life of Sensations rather than of Thoughts!
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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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To feel forever its soft fall and swell, Awake for ever in a sweet unrest, Still, still to hear her tender-taken breath, And so live ever-or else swoon in death.
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O, sorrow! Why dost borrow Heart's lightness from the merriment of May?
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... Who alive can say 'Thou art no Poet - mayst not tell thy dreams'? Since every man whose soul is not a clod Hath visions, and would speak, if he had loved, And been well nurtured in his mother tongue.
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A moment's thought is passion's passing knell.
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A poet without love were a physical and metaphysical impossibility.
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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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Here lies one whose name was writ in water.
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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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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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Who would wish to be among the commonplace crowd of the little famous - who are each individually lost in a throng made up of themselves?
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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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I myself am pursuing the same instinctive course as the veriest human animal you can think of I am, however young, writing at random straining at particles of light in the midst of a great darkness without knowing the bearing of any one assertion, of any one opinion. Yet may I not in this be free from sin?
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No one can usurp the heights... But those to whom the miseries of the world Are misery, and will not let them rest.
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Heard melodies are sweet, but those unheard Are sweeter therefore, ye soft pipes, play on Not to the sensual ear, but, more endear'd, Pipe to the spirit ditties of no tone.
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Like a mermaid in sea-weed, she dreams awake, trembling in her soft and chilly nest.
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The thought, the deadly thought of solitude.
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Pensive they sit, and roll their languid eyes.
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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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