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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.

John Keats

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John Keats
Age: 25 †
Born: 1795
Born: October 31
Died: 1821
Died: February 23
Judge-Rapporteur
Physician
Poet
Might
Shower
Right
Showers
Supreme
Poetry
Arms
Half
Light
Poesy
Power
Slumbering

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Pensive they sit, and roll their languid eyes.
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It appears to me that almost any man may like the spider spin from his own inwards his own airy citadel.
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O fret not after knowledge - I have none, and yet my song comes native with the warmth. O fret not after knowledge - I have none, and yet the Evening listens.
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Fade far away, dissolve, and quite forget.
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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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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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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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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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Knowledge enormous makes a God of me. Names, deeds, gray legends, dire events, rebellions, Majesties, sovran voices, agonies, Creations and destroyings, all at once Pour into the wide hollows of my brain, And deify me, as if some blithe wine Or bright elixir peerless I had drunk, And so become immortal.
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I will imagine you Venus tonight and pray, pray, pray to your star like a Heathen.
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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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The thought, the deadly thought of solitude.
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A little noiseless noise among the leaves, Born of the very sigh that silence heaves.
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Give me books, French wine, fruit, fine weather and a little music played out of doors by somebody I do not know.
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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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A thing of beauty is a joy forever.
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To bear all naked truths, And to envisage circumstance, all calm, That is the top of sovereignty
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There is nothing stable in the world uproar's your only music.
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Young playmates of the rose and daffodil, Be careful ere ye enter in, to fill Your baskets high With fennel green, and balm, and golden pines Savory latter-mint, and columbines.
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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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