Their woes gone by, and both to heaven upflown, To bow for gratitude before Jove's throne.
John KeatsMy mind has been the most discontented and restless one that ever was put into a body too small for it.
John KeatsTo feel forever its soft fall and swell, Awake for ever in a sweet unrest, Still, still to hear her tender-taken breath, And so live ever-or else swoon in death.
John KeatsNor do we merely feel these essences for one short hour no, even as these trees that whisper round a temple become soon dear as the temples self, so does the moon, the passion posey, glories infinite, Haunt us till they become a cheering light unto our souls and bound to us so fast, that wheather there be shine, or gloom o'er cast, They always must be with us, or we die.
John Keats