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I will clamber through the clouds and exist.

John Keats

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John Keats
Age: 25 †
Born: 1795
Born: October 31
Died: 1821
Died: February 23
Judge-Rapporteur
Physician
Poet
Clamber
Clouds
Exist

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Shed no tear - O, shed no tear! The flower will bloom another year. Weep no more - O, weep no more! Young buds sleep in the root's white core.
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Knowledge enormous makes a god of me.
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I have so much of you in my heart.
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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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The thought, the deadly thought of solitude.
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Sudden a thought came like a full-blown rose, Flushing his brow.
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Adieu! adieu! thy plaintive anthem fades Past the near meadows, over the still stream, Up the hill-side and now 'tis buried deep In the next valley-glades: Was it a vision, or a waking dream? Fled is that music:--do I wake or sleep?
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The only means of strengthening one's intellect is to make up one's mind about nothing, to let the mind be a thoroughfare for all thoughts.
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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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Dry your eyes O dry your eyes, For I was taught in Paradise To ease my breast of melodies.
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Time, that aged nurse, Rocked me to patience.
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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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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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was it a vision or a waking dream? Fled is that music--do I wake or sleep?
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Sweet are the pleasures that to verse belong, And doubly sweet a brotherhood in song.
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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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Their woes gone by, and both to heaven upflown, To bow for gratitude before Jove's throne.
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Dancing music, music sad, Both together, sane and mad.
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I wish you could invent some means to make me at all happy without you. Every hour I am more and more concentrated in you everything else tastes like chaff in my mouth.
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