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There is a budding tomorrow in midnight.

John Keats

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John Keats
Age: 25 †
Born: 1795
Born: October 31
Died: 1821
Died: February 23
Judge-Rapporteur
Physician
Poet
Midnight
Tomorrow
Budding

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Let us open our leaves like a flower, and be passive and receptive.
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Open afresh your rounds of starry folds, Ye ardent Marigolds.
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...yes, in spite of all, Some shape of beauty moves away the pall From out dark spirits.
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I have loved the principle of beauty in all things.
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What shocks the virtuous philosopher, delights the chameleon poet.
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You are always new. The last of your kisses was even the sweetest the last smile the brightest the last movement the gracefullest.
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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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Knowledge enormous makes a god of me.
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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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Darkling I listen and, for many a time I have been half in love with easeful Death, Called him soft names in many a muse' d rhyme, To take into the air my quiet breath Now more than ever seems it rich to die, To cease upon the midnight with no pain, While thou art pouring forth thy soul abroad In such an ecstasy!
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Heard melodies are sweet, but those unheard Are sweeter therefore, ye soft pipes, play on Not to the sensual ear, but, more endear'd, Pipe to the spirit ditties of no tone.
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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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I never can feel certain of any truth, but from a clear perception of its beauty.
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Adieu! adieu! thy plaintive anthem fades Past the near meadows, over the still stream, Up the hill-side and now 'tis buried deep In the next valley-glades: Was it a vision, or a waking dream? Fled is that music:--do I wake or sleep?
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The redbreast whistles from a garden-croft and gathering swallows twitter in the skies.
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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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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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You are always new to me.
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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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As the Swiss inscription says: Sprechen ist silbern, Schweigen ist golden,- Speech is silvern, Silence is golden or, as I might rather express it, Speech is of Time, Silence is of Eternity.
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