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Everything that reminds me of her goes through me like a spear.

John Keats

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John Keats
Age: 25 †
Born: 1795
Born: October 31
Died: 1821
Died: February 23
Judge-Rapporteur
Physician
Poet
Like
Spear
Spears
Reminds
Relationship
Goes
Everything

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The Public - a thing I cannot help looking upon as an enemy, and which I cannot address without feelings of hostility.
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To bear all naked truths, And to envisage circumstance, all calm, That is the top of sovereignty
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You speak of Lord Byron and me there is this great difference between us. He describes what he sees I describe what I imagine. Mine is the hardest task.
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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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O magic sleep! O comfortable bird, That broodest o'er the troubled sea of the mind Till it is hush'd and smooth!
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Whatever the imagination seizes as Beauty must be truth -whether it existed before or not
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O latest born and loveliest vision far of all Olympus' faded hierarchy.
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He ne'er is crowned with immortality Who fears to follow where airy voices lead.
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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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To one who has been long in city pent, ’Tis very sweet to look into the fair And open face of heaven, — to breathe a prayer Full in the smile of the blue firmament.
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I will imagine you Venus tonight and pray, pray, pray to your star like a Heathen.
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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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The poetry of the earth is never dead.
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Pensive they sit, and roll their languid eyes.
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O for the gentleness of old Romance, the simple planning of a minstrel's song!
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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 would jump down Etna for any public good - but I hate a mawkish popularity.
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The silver, snarling trumpets 'gan to chide.
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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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I do think better of womankind than to suppose they care whether Mister John Keats five feet high likes them or not.
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