Quote

All my clear-eyed fish, Golden, or rainbow-sided, or purplish, Vermilion-tail'd, or finn'd with silvery gauze... My charming rod, my potent river spells.

John Keats

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John Keats
Age: 25 †
Born: 1795
Born: October 31
Died: 1821
Died: February 23
Judge-Rapporteur
Physician
Poet
Fishes
Tails
Vermilion
Boat
Spells
Gauze
Golden
Rainbow
Silvery
Rivers
Charming
Finn
Sea
Lakes
Sided
Clear
Fishing
Potent
River
Eyed
Fish
Tail

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When old age shall this generation waste, Thou shalt remain, in midst of other woe Than ours, a friend to man, to whom thou say'st, Beauty is truth, truth beauty, - that is all Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know.
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How beautiful, if sorrow had not made Sorrow more beautiful than Beauty's self.
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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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My friends should drink a dozen of Claret on my Tomb.
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Severn - I - lift me up - I am dying - I shall die easy don't be frightened - be firm, and thank God it has come.
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It keeps eternal whisperings around desolate shores
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Real are the dreams of Gods, and smoothly pass Their pleasures in a long immortal dream.
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There was an awful rainbow once in heaven: We know her woof, her texture she is given In the dull catalogue of common things. Philosophy will clip an angel's wings.
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I am convinced more and more day by day that fine writing is next to fine doing, the top thing in the world.
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Nothing is finer for the purposes of great productions than a very gradual ripening of the intellectual powers.
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O fret not after knowledge - I have none, and yet my song comes native with the warmth. O fret not after knowledge - I have none, and yet the Evening listens.
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Let us open our leaves like a flower, and be passive and receptive.
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Talking of Pleasure, this moment I was writing with one hand, and with the other holding to my Mouth a Nectarine - how good how fine. It went down all pulpy, slushy, oozy, all its delicious embonpoint melted down my throat like a large, beatified Strawberry.
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Give me books, French wine, fruit, fine weather and a little music played out of doors by somebody I do not know.
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A drainless shower Of light is poesy: 'tis the supreme of power 'Tis might half slumbering on its own right arm.
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The world is too brutal for me-I am glad there is such a thing as the grave-I am sure I shall never have any rest till I get there.
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