Quote

The opinion I have of the generality of women--who appear to me as children to whom I would rather give a sugar plum than my time, forms a barrier against matrimony which I rejoice in.

John Keats

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John Keats
Age: 25 †
Born: 1795
Born: October 31
Died: 1821
Died: February 23
Judge-Rapporteur
Physician
Poet
Women
Sugar
Giving
Barriers
Plum
Children
Appear
Generality
Would
Forms
Plums
Time
Opinion
Generalities
Rather
Matrimony
Form
Barrier
Give
Rejoice

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To stay youthful, stay useful.
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Time, that aged nurse, Rocked me to patience.
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How sad it is when a luxurious imagination is obliged in self defense to deaden its delicacy in vulgarity, and riot in things attainable that it may not have leisure to go mad after things that are not.
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So rainbow-sided, touch'd with miseries, She seem'd, at once, some penanced lady elf, Some demon's mistress, or the demon's self.
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And shade the violets, That they may bind the moss in leafy nets.
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There is nothing stable in the world uproar's your only music.
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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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O for the gentleness of old Romance, the simple planning of a minstrel's song!
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Scenery is fine - but human nature is finer.
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We have woven a web, you and I, attached to this world but a separate world of our own invention.
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O let me lead her gently o'er the brook, Watch her half-smiling lips and downward look O let me for one moment touch her wrist Let me one moment to her breathing list And as she leaves me, may she often turn Her fair eyes looking through her locks auburne.
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In a drear-nighted December, Too happy, happy brook, Thy bubblings ne'er remember Apollo's summer look But with a sweet forgetting, They stay their crystal fretting, Never, never petting About the frozen time.
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How beautiful, if sorrow had not made Sorrow more beautiful than Beauty's self.
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Where are the songs of Spring? Aye, where are they? Think not of them thou has thy music too.
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The genius of Shakespeare was an innate university.
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It is a flaw In happiness to see beyond our bourn, - It forces us in summer skies to mourn, It spoils the singing of the nightingale.
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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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Love in a hut, with water and a crust, Is - Love, forgive us! - cinders, ashes, dust.
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