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A moment's thought is passion's passing knell.

John Keats

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John Keats
Age: 25 †
Born: 1795
Born: October 31
Died: 1821
Died: February 23
Judge-Rapporteur
Physician
Poet
Passings
Passing
Passion
Moment
Moments
Thought
Knell

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... the open sky sits upon our senses like a sapphire crown - the Air is our robe of state - the Earth is our throne, and the Sea a mighty minstrel playing before it.
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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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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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Praise or blame has but a momentary effect on the man whose love of beauty in the abstract makes him a severe critic on his own works.
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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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The day is gone, and all its sweets are gone!
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And how they kist each other's tremulous eyes.
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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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Whatever the imagination seizes as Beauty must be truth -whether it existed before or not
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I shall soon be laid in the quiet grave--thank God for the quiet grave--O! I can feel the cold earth upon me--the daisies growing over me--O for this quiet--it will be my first.
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In a drear-nighted December, Too happy, happy tree, Thy branches ne'er remember Their green felicity.
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Philosophy will clip an angel's wings, Conquer all mysteries by rule and line, Empty the haunted air, and gnomed mine - Unweave a rainbow.
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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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There is nothing stable in the world uproar's your only music.
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Sudden a thought came like a full-blown rose, Flushing his brow.
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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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My love is selfish. I cannot breathe without you.
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Time, that aged nurse, Rocked me to patience.
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So, when dark thoughts my boding spirit shroud, Sweet Hope! celestial influence round me shed Waving thy silver pinions o'er my head.
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