John Keats Quotes

I know the colour of that blood; it is arterial blood; I cannot be deceived in that colour; that drop of blood is my death-warrant—I must die.

Forlorn! the very word is like a bell To toll me back from thee to my sole self! Adieu! the fancy cannot cheat so well As she is famed to do, deceiving elf.

Thou wast not born for death, immortal Bird!

Darkling I listen; and, for many a time I have been half in love with easeful Death, Called him soft names in many a muse’d rhyme, To take into the air my quiet breath; Now more than ever seems it rich to die, To cease upon the midnight with no pain, While thou art pouring forth thy soul abroad In such an ecstasy!