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I have so much of you in my heart.

John Keats

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John Keats
Age: 25 †
Born: 1795
Born: October 31
Died: 1821
Died: February 23
Judge-Rapporteur
Physician
Poet
Poetry
Heart
Much
Love
Adoption
Romantic

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Where are the songs of Spring? Aye, where are they? Think not of them thou has thy music too.
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She hurried at his words, beset with fears, For there were sleeping dragons all around.
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The uttered part of a man's life, let us always repeat, bears to the unuttered, unconscious part a small unknown proportion. He himself never knows it, much less do others.
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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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We have woven a web, you and I, attached to this world but a separate world of our own invention.
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The genius of Shakespeare was an innate university.
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A little noiseless noise among the leaves, Born of the very sigh that silence heaves.
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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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The silver, snarling trumpets 'gan to chide.
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Don't be discouraged by a failure. It can be a positive experience.
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I love your hills and I love your dales, And I love your flocks a-bleating but oh, on the heather to lie together, With both our hearts a-beating!
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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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Scenery is fine - but human nature is finer.
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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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Knowledge enormous makes a god of me.
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All my clear-eyed fish, Golden, or rainbow-sided, or purplish, Vermilion-tail'd, or finn'd with silvery gauze... My charming rod, my potent river spells.
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Poetry should be great and unobtrusive, a thing which enters into one's soul, and does not startle it or amaze it with itself, but with its subject.
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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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She press'd his hand in slumber so once more He could not help but kiss her and adore.
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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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