Quote

Let us away, my love, with happy speed There are no ears to hear, or eyes to see, - Drown'd all in Rhenish and the sleepy mead. Awake! arise! my love and fearless be, For o'er the southern moors I have a home for thee.

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
Arise
Home
Speed
Mead
Love
Thee
Moors
Ears
Sleepy
Hear
Drown
Eyes
Fearless
Happy
Southern
Eye
Awake

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An extensive knowledge is needful to thinking people-it takes away the heat and fever and helps, by widening speculation, to ease the burden of the mystery.
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O aching time! O moments big as years!
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Faded the flower and all its budded charms,Faded the sight of beauty from my eyes,Faded the shape of beauty from my arms,Faded the voice, warmth, whiteness, paradise!Vanishd unseasonably
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A moment's thought is passion's passing knell.
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I shall soon be laid in the quiet grave--thank God for the quiet grave--O! I can feel the cold earth upon me--the daisies growing over me--O for this quiet--it will be my first.
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O Solitude! if I must with thee dwell, Let it not be among the jumbled heap Of murky buildings: climb with me the steep,-- Nature's observatory--whence the dell, In flowery slopes, its river's crystal swell, May seem a span let me thy vigils keep 'Mongst boughs pavilion'd, where the deer's swift leap Startles the wild bee from the foxglove bell.
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I would jump down Etna for any public good - but I hate a mawkish popularity.
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Whatever the imagination seizes as Beauty must be truth -whether it existed before or not
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I wish I was either in your arms full of faith, or that a Thunder bolt would strike me.
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It keeps eternal whisperings around desolate shores
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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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You are always new. The last of your kisses was even the sweetest the last smile the brightest the last movement the gracefullest.
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There is an electric fire in human nature tending to purify - so that among these human creatures there is continually some birth of new heroism. The pity is that we must wonder at it, as we should at finding a pearl in rubbish.
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I am in that temper that if I were under water I would scarcely kick to come to the top.
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one of the most mysterious of semi-speculations is, one would suppose, that of one Mind's imagining into another
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So, when dark thoughts my boding spirit shroud, Sweet Hope! celestial influence round me shed Waving thy silver pinions o'er my head.
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Darkling I listen and, for many a time I have been half in love with easeful Death, Called him soft names in many a muse' d rhyme, To take into the air my quiet breath Now more than ever seems it rich to die, To cease upon the midnight with no pain, While thou art pouring forth thy soul abroad In such an ecstasy!
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