My mind has been the most discontented and restless one that ever was put into a body too small for it.
John KeatsThough the most beautiful creature were waiting for me at the end of a journey or a walk; though the carpet were of silk, the curtains of the morning clouds; the chairs and sofa stuffed with cygnet's down; the food manna, the wine beyond claret, the window opening on Winander Mere, I should not feel -or rather my happiness would not be so fine, as my solitude is sublime.
John KeatsIn a drear-nighted December, Too happy, happy tree, Thy branches ne'er remember Their green felicity.
John Keats