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There is an awful warmth about my heart like a load of immortality.

John Keats

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John Keats
Age: 25 †
Born: 1795
Born: October 31
Died: 1821
Died: February 23
Judge-Rapporteur
Physician
Poet
Immortality
Awful
Heart
Like
Load
Warmth

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I came to feel how far above All fancy, pride, and fickle maidenhood, All earthly pleasure, all imagined good, Was the warm tremble of a devout kiss.
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A poet without love were a physical and metaphysical impossibility.
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Dancing music, music sad, Both together, sane and mad.
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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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Fanatics have their dreams, wherewith they weave a paradise for a sect.
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Whatever the imagination seizes as Beauty must be truth -whether it existed before or not
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But the rose leaves herself upon the brier, For winds to kiss and grateful bees to feed.
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No one can usurp the heights... But those to whom the miseries of the world Are misery, and will not let them rest.
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Joy, whose hand is ever at his lips, bidding adieu
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Sudden a thought came like a full-blown rose, Flushing his brow.
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I don't need the stars in the night I found my treasure All I need is you by my side so shine forever
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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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What is there in thee, Moon! That thou should'st move My heart so potently?
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A man should have the fine point of his soul taken off to become fit for this world.
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The opinion I have of the generality of women--who appear to me as children to whom I would rather give a sugar plum than my time, forms a barrier against matrimony which I rejoice in.
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Let us away, my love, with happy speed There are no ears to hear, or eyes to see, - Drown'd all in Rhenish and the sleepy mead. Awake! arise! my love and fearless be, For o'er the southern moors I have a home for thee.
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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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He ne'er is crowned with immortality Who fears to follow where airy voices lead.
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O for a life of Sensations rather than of Thoughts!
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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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