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Failure is, in a sense, the highway to success.

John Keats

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John Keats
Age: 25 †
Born: 1795
Born: October 31
Died: 1821
Died: February 23
Judge-Rapporteur
Physician
Poet
Sense
Highway
Highways
Failure
Success

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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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...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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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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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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Dancing music, music sad, Both together, sane and mad.
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The thought, the deadly thought of solitude.
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Like a mermaid in sea-weed, she dreams awake, trembling in her soft and chilly nest.
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Here lies one whose name was writ in water.
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The poetry of earth is never dead When all the birds are faint with the hot sun, And hide I cooling trees, a voice will run From hedge to hedge about the new-mown mead.
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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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Fast fading violets cover'd up in leaves And mid-May's eldest child, The coming musk-rose, full of dewy wine, The murmurous haunt of flies on summer eves.
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I have loved the principle of beauty in all things.
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Ay, on the shores of darkness there is a light, and precipices show untrodden green there is a budding morrow in midnight there is triple sight in blindness keen.
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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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And shade the violets, That they may bind the moss in leafy nets.
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That queen of secrecy, the violet.
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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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There is nothing stable in the world uproar's your only music.
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Fade far away, dissolve, and quite forget.
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Philosophy will clip an angel's wings.
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