Quote

I see a lily on thy brow, With anguish moist and fever dew And on thy cheek a fading rose Fast withereth too.

John Keats

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John Keats
Age: 25 †
Born: 1795
Born: October 31
Died: 1821
Died: February 23
Judge-Rapporteur
Physician
Poet
Fading
Cheek
Fever
Moist
Anguish
Lily
Cheeks
Brow
Fast
Dew
Rose
Brows
Lilies

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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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No sooner had I stepp'd into these pleasures Than I began to think of rhymes and measures: The air that floated by me seem'd to say 'Write! thou wilt never have a better day.
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I am sailing with thee through the dizzy sky! How beautiful thou art!
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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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In a drear-nighted December, Too happy, happy tree, Thy branches ne'er remember Their green felicity.
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I should write for the mere yearning and fondness I have for the beautiful, even if my night's labors should be burnt every morning and no eye shine upon them.
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We have woven a web, you and I, attached to this world but a separate world of our own invention.
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I have been astonished that men could die martyrs for their religion-- I have shuddered at it, I shudder no more. I could be martyred for my religion. Love is my religion and I could die for that. I could die for you. My Creed is Love and you are its only tenet.
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Fast fading violets cover'd up in leaves And mid-May's eldest child, The coming musk-rose, full of dewy wine, The murmurous haunt of flies on summer eves.
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My friends should drink a dozen of Claret on my Tomb.
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Turn the key deftly in the oiled wards, And seal the hushed Casket of my Soul.
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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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A man should have the fine point of his soul taken off to become fit for this world.
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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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