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The thought, the deadly thought of solitude.

John Keats

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John Keats
Age: 25 †
Born: 1795
Born: October 31
Died: 1821
Died: February 23
Judge-Rapporteur
Physician
Poet
Thought
Deadly
Solitude

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...I leaped headlong into the Sea, and thereby have become more acquainted with the Soundings, the quicksands, and the rocks, than if I had stayed upon the green shore, and piped a silly pipe, and took tea and comfortable advice.
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When I have fears that I may ceace to be, Before my pen has gleaned my teaming brain.
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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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Four seasons fill the measure of the year there are four seasons in the minds of men.
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In a drear-nighted December, Too happy, happy brook, Thy bubblings ne'er remember Apollo's summer look But with a sweet forgetting, They stay their crystal fretting, Never, never petting About the frozen time.
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Works of genius are the first things in the world.
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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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Their woes gone by, and both to heaven upflown, To bow for gratitude before Jove's throne.
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So rainbow-sided, touch'd with miseries, She seem'd, at once, some penanced lady elf, Some demon's mistress, or the demon's self.
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I will give you a definition of a proud man: he is a man who has neither vanity nor wisdom one filled with hatreds cannot be vain, neither can he be wise.
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I find I cannot exist without Poetry
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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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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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Music's golden tongue Flatter'd to tears this aged man and poor.
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My imagination is a monastery and I am its monk.
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Fade far away, dissolve, and quite forget.
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I am convinced more and more day by day that fine writing is next to fine doing, the top thing in the world.
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I will clamber through the clouds and exist.
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And there shall be for thee all soft delight That shadowy thought can win, A bright torch, and a casement ope at night, To let the warm Love in!
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