John Keats

Fanatics have their dreams, wherewith they weave A paradise for a sect.

Shed no tear - O, shed no tear! The flower will bloom another year. Weep no more - O, weep no more! Young buds sleep in the root's white core.

I will give you a definition of a proud man: he is a man who has neither vanity nor wisdom - one filled with hatreds cannot be vain, neither can he be wise.

I am certain of nothing but the Holiness of the Heart's affections and the Truth of the Imagination.

Sudden a thought came like a full-blown rose, Flushing his brow.

Those green-robed senators of mighty woods, Tall oaks, branch-charmed by the earnest stars, Dream, and so dream all night without a stir.

The poetry of earth is never dead.

His religion at best is an anxious wish,-like that of Rabelais, a great Perhaps.

We have oftener than once endeavoured to attach some meaning to that aphorism, vulgarly imputed to Shaftesbury, which however we can find nowhere in his works, that "ridicule is the test of truth."

Silence is deep as Eternity, speech is shallow as Time.