Quote

Ay, on the shores of darkness there is a light, and precipices show untrodden green there is a budding morrow in midnight there is triple sight in blindness keen.

John Keats

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John Keats
Age: 25 †
Born: 1795
Born: October 31
Died: 1821
Died: February 23
Judge-Rapporteur
Physician
Poet
Green
Precipice
Darkness
Shores
Show
Keen
Shows
Morrow
Light
Blindness
Precipices
Midnight
Untrodden
Shore
Budding
Sight
Triple

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The poetry of earth is never dead When all the birds are faint with the hot sun, And hide I cooling trees, a voice will run From hedge to hedge about the new-mown mead.
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A man should have the fine point of his soul taken off to become fit for this world.
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There is nothing stable in the world uproar's your only music.
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Sweet are the pleasures that to verse belong, And doubly sweet a brotherhood in song.
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Don't be discouraged by a failure. It can be a positive experience.
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O, sorrow! Why dost borrow Heart's lightness from the merriment of May?
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We must repeat the often repeated saying, that it is unworthy a religious man to view an irreligious one either with alarm or aversion, or with any other feeling than regret and hope and brotherly commiseration.
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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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Bright star, would I were steadfast as thou art-- Not in lone splendour hung aloft the night And watching, with eternal lids apart, Like nature's patient, sleepless Eremite.
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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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Here lies one whose name was writ in water.
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And shade the violets, That they may bind the moss in leafy nets.
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Load every rift with ore.
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Time, that aged nurse, Rocked me to patience.
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I wish you could invent some means to make me at all happy without you. Every hour I am more and more concentrated in you everything else tastes like chaff in my mouth.
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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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No stir of air was there, Not so much life as on a summer's day Robs not one light seed from the feather'd grass, But where the dead leaf fell, there did it rest.
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Dry your eyes O dry your eyes, For I was taught in Paradise To ease my breast of melodies.
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When I have fears that I may ceace to be, Before my pen has gleaned my teaming brain.
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