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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.

John Keats

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John Keats
Age: 25 †
Born: 1795
Born: October 31
Died: 1821
Died: February 23
Judge-Rapporteur
Physician
Poet
Away
Women
Really
Would
Poem
Think
Mets
Thinking
Married
Like
Novel
Given

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I never can feel certain of any truth, but from a clear perception of its beauty.
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Severn - I - lift me up - I am dying - I shall die easy don't be frightened - be firm, and thank God it has come.
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I have so much of you in my heart.
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Load every rift with ore.
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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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Fade far away, dissolve, and quite forget.
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No, no, I'm sure, My restless spirit never could endure To brood so long upon one luxury, Unless it did, though fearfully, espy A hope beyond the shadow of a dream.
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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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But the rose leaves herself upon the brier, For winds to kiss and grateful bees to feed.
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When I behold, upon the night's starr'd face, Huge cloudy symbols of a high romance, And think that I may never live to trace Their shadows, with the magic hand of chance.
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She hurried at his words, beset with fears, For there were sleeping dragons all around.
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I am sailing with thee through the dizzy sky! How beautiful thou art!
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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 will clamber through the clouds and exist.
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The air is all softness.
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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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A drainless shower Of light is poesy: 'tis the supreme of power 'Tis might half slumbering on its own right arm.
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O magic sleep! O comfortable bird, That broodest o'er the troubled sea of the mind Till it is hush'd and smooth!
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I have good reason to be content, for thank God I can read and perhaps understand Shakespeare to his depths.
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The Public - a thing I cannot help looking upon as an enemy, and which I cannot address without feelings of hostility.
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