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I have loved the principle of beauty in all things.

John Keats

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John Keats
Age: 25 †
Born: 1795
Born: October 31
Died: 1821
Died: February 23
Judge-Rapporteur
Physician
Poet
Principles
Beauty
Things
Principle
Gratitude
Loved

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There is an awful warmth about my heart like a load of immortality.
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Thou foster-child of Silence and slow Time.
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What is there in thee, Moon! That thou should'st move My heart so potently?
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With a great poet the sense of Beauty overcomes every other consideration, or rather obliterates all consideration.
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My imagination is a monastery and I am its monk.
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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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I have two luxuries to brood over in my walks, your loveliness and the hour of my death. O that I could have possession of them both in the same minute.
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Joy, whose hand is ever at his lips, bidding adieu
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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 met with women whom I really think would like to be married to a Poem and to be given away by a Novel.
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Bright star, would I were steadfast as thou art-- Not in lone splendour hung aloft the night And watching, with eternal lids apart, Like nature's patient, sleepless Eremite.
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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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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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A little noiseless noise among the leaves, Born of the very sigh that silence heaves.
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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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O for a life of Sensations rather than of Thoughts!
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O for the gentleness of old Romance, the simple planning of a minstrel's song!
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In a drear-nighted December, Too happy, happy tree, Thy branches ne'er remember Their green felicity.
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How sad it is when a luxurious imagination is obliged in self defense to deaden its delicacy in vulgarity, and riot in things attainable that it may not have leisure to go mad after things that are not.
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I Cannot Exist Without You. I Am Forgetful Of Everything But Seeing You Again.
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