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The world is too brutal for me-I am glad there is such a thing as the grave-I am sure I shall never have any rest till I get there.

John Keats

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John Keats
Age: 25 †
Born: 1795
Born: October 31
Died: 1821
Died: February 23
Judge-Rapporteur
Physician
Poet
Rest
Shall
Sure
Brutal
Thing
Grave
Never
Graves
World
Till
Chaos
Glad

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A poet without love were a physical and metaphysical impossibility.
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was it a vision or a waking dream? Fled is that music--do I wake or sleep?
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O let me lead her gently o'er the brook, Watch her half-smiling lips and downward look O let me for one moment touch her wrist Let me one moment to her breathing list And as she leaves me, may she often turn Her fair eyes looking through her locks auburne.
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Dancing music, music sad, Both together, sane and mad.
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Thou foster-child of Silence and slow Time.
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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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