What the Imagination seizes as Beauty must be Truth.
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John Keats
John Keats (/ˈkiːts/; 31 October 1795 – 23 February 1821) was an English Romantic poet. He was one of the main figures of the second generation of Romantic poets, along with Lord Byron and Percy Bysshe Shelley, despite his work's having been in publication for only four years before his death. Although his poems were not generally well received by critics during his lifetime, his reputation grew after his death, and by the end of the 19th century, he had become one of the most beloved of all English poets. He had a significant influence on a diverse range of poets and writers. Jorge Luis Borges stated that his first encounter with Keats's work was the most significant literary experience of his life. The poetry of Keats is characterised by sensual imagery, most notably in the series of odes. This is typical of romantic poets, as they aimed to accentuate extreme emotion through the emphasis of natural imagery. Today his poems and letters are some of the most popular and most analysed in English literature. 2Biography 3Early life John Keats was born in Moorgate, London, on 31 October 1795 to Thomas Keats and his wife, born Frances Jennings. There is little evidence of his exact birth date, as although Keats and his family seem to have marked his birthday on 29 October, baptism records give the date as the 31s
I am certain of nothing but of the holiness of the heart’s affections, and the truth of Imagination. What the Imagination seizes as Beauty must be Truth.
And when thou art weary I'll find thee a bed, Of mosses and flowers to pillow thy head.
I was never afraid of failure; for I would sooner fail than not be among the greatest.
Do you not see how necessary a world of pains and troubles is to school an intelligence and make it a soul?
I cannot exist without you – I am forgetful of every thing but seeing you again – my Life seems to stop there – I see no further. You have absorb’d me.
My dearest Girl, I cannot exist without you — I am forgetful of every thing but seeing you again — my Life seems to stop there — I see no further. You have absorb’d me. I have a sensation at the present moment as though I was dissolving—I should be exquisitely miserable without the hope of soon…
I almost wish we were butterflies and liv'd but three summer days - three such days with you I could fill with more delight than fifty common years could ever contain.
Do you not see how necessary a world of pains and troubles is to school an intelligence and make it a soul?
Do you not see how necessary a world of pains and troubles is to school an intelligence and make it a soul?
I never knew before, what such a love as you have made me feel, was; I did not believe in it; my Fancy was afraid of it, lest it should burn me up. But if you will fully love me, though there may be some fire, 'twill not be more than we can bear when moistened and bedewed with pleasures.
You cannot conceive how I ache to be with you: how I would die for one hour...
You are always new. The last of your kisses was ever the sweetest; the last smile the brightest; the last movement the gracefullest.
My love is selfish. I cannot breathe without you.