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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
Spear
Spears
Reminds
Relationship
Goes
Everything
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I should write for the mere yearning and fondness I have for the beautiful, even if my night's labors should be burnt every morning and no eye shine upon them.
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it struck me what quality went to form a Man of Achievement, especially in Literature, and which Shakespeare possessed so enormously - I mean Negative Capability, that is, when a man is capable of being in uncertainties, mysteries, doubts, without any irritable reaching after fact and reason.
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Shed no tear - O, shed no tear! The flower will bloom another year. Weep no more - O, weep no more! Young buds sleep in the root's white core.
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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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How beautiful, if sorrow had not made Sorrow more beautiful than Beauty's self.
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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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A long poem is a test of invention which I take to be the Polar star of poetry, as fancy is the sails, and imagination the rudder.
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With a great poet the sense of Beauty overcomes every other consideration, or rather obliterates all consideration.
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My friends should drink a dozen of Claret on my Tomb.
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Joy, whose hand is ever at his lips, bidding adieu
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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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Poetry should be great and unobtrusive, a thing which enters into one's soul, and does not startle it or amaze it with itself, but with its subject.
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I find I cannot exist without Poetry
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Call the world if you please the vale of soul-making. Then you will find out the use of the world.
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Time, that aged nurse, Rocked me to patience.
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Knowledge enormous makes a God of me. Names, deeds, gray legends, dire events, rebellions, Majesties, sovran voices, agonies, Creations and destroyings, all at once Pour into the wide hollows of my brain, And deify me, as if some blithe wine Or bright elixir peerless I had drunk, And so become immortal.
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Let us open our leaves like a flower, and be passive and receptive.
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The day is gone, and all its sweets are gone!
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Pensive they sit, and roll their languid eyes.
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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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