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No, no, I'm sure, My restless spirit never could endure To brood so long upon one luxury, Unless it did, though fearfully, espy A hope beyond the shadow of a dream.

John Keats

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John Keats
Age: 25 †
Born: 1795
Born: October 31
Died: 1821
Died: February 23
Judge-Rapporteur
Physician
Poet
Dream
Shadow
Long
Unless
Never
Beyond
Fearfully
Sure
Brood
Though
Restless
Upon
Immortality
Hope
Luxury
Spirit
Endure

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Love in a hut, with water and a crust, Is - Love, forgive us! - cinders, ashes, dust.
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The imagination of a boy is healthy, and the mature imagination of a man is healthy but there is a space of life between, in which the soul is in a ferment, the character undecided, the way of life uncertain, the ambition thick-sighted: thence proceeds mawkishness.
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No stir of air was there, Not so much life as on a summer's day Robs not one light seed from the feather'd grass, But where the dead leaf fell, there did it rest.
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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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The creature has a purpose, and his eyes are bright with it.
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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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Every mental pursuit takes its reality and worth from the ardour of the pursuer.
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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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Failure is, in a sense, the highway to success.
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I am sailing with thee through the dizzy sky! How beautiful thou art!
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My heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains/ My sense, as though of hemlock I had drunk.
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Like a mermaid in sea-weed, she dreams awake, trembling in her soft and chilly nest.
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I have good reason to be content, for thank God I can read and perhaps understand Shakespeare to his depths.
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That which is creative must create itself.
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What shocks the virtuous philosopher, delights the chameleon poet.
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Poetry should surprise by a fine excess and not by singularity, it should strike the reader as a wording of his own highest thoughts, and appear almost a remembrance.
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--then on the shore Of the wide world I stand alone, and think Till love and fame to nothingness do sink.
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