Quote

I myself am pursuing the same instinctive course as the veriest human animal you can think of I am, however young, writing at random straining at particles of light in the midst of a great darkness without knowing the bearing of any one assertion, of any one opinion. Yet may I not in this be free from sin?

John Keats

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John Keats
Age: 25 †
Born: 1795
Born: October 31
Died: 1821
Died: February 23
Judge-Rapporteur
Physician
Poet
Humans
Courses
Particles
Without
Course
Random
Great
Knowing
Midst
Veriest
Writing
Free
Sin
Straining
Think
Light
However
Instinctive
Thinking
Young
Darkness
Pursuing
May
Animal
Bearing
Human
Opinion
Assertion

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The roaring of the wind is my wife and the stars through the window pane are my children. The mighty abstract idea I have of beauty in all things stifles the more divided and minute domestic happiness.
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...I leaped headlong into the Sea, and thereby have become more acquainted with the Soundings, the quicksands, and the rocks, than if I had stayed upon the green shore, and piped a silly pipe, and took tea and comfortable advice.
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The air is all softness.
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O Solitude! if I must with thee dwell, Let it not be among the jumbled heap Of murky buildings: climb with me the steep,-- Nature's observatory--whence the dell, In flowery slopes, its river's crystal swell, May seem a span let me thy vigils keep 'Mongst boughs pavilion'd, where the deer's swift leap Startles the wild bee from the foxglove bell.
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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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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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And shade the violets, That they may bind the moss in leafy nets.
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... Who alive can say 'Thou art no Poet - mayst not tell thy dreams'? Since every man whose soul is not a clod Hath visions, and would speak, if he had loved, And been well nurtured in his mother tongue.
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Souls of poets dead and gone, What Elysium have ye known, Happy field or mossy cavern, Choicer than the Mermaid Tavern? Have ye tippled drink more fine Than mine host's Canary wine?
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You have absorb'd me. I have a sensation at the present moment as though I was dissolving.
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Let us away, my love, with happy speed There are no ears to hear, or eyes to see, - Drown'd all in Rhenish and the sleepy mead. Awake! arise! my love and fearless be, For o'er the southern moors I have a home for thee.
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It ought to come like the leaves to the trees, or it better not come at all.
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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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There is an electric fire in human nature tending to purify - so that among these human creatures there is continually some birth of new heroism. The pity is that we must wonder at it, as we should at finding a pearl in rubbish.
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Some say the world is a vale of tears, I say it is a place of soul-making.
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Through buried paths, where sleepy twilight dreams The summer time away.
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Joy, whose hand is ever at his lips, bidding adieu
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Their woes gone by, and both to heaven upflown, To bow for gratitude before Jove's throne.
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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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Real are the dreams of Gods, and smoothly pass Their pleasures in a long immortal dream.
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