FastSaying
Are there not thousands in the world who love their fellows even to the death, who feel the giant agony of the world, and more, like slaves to poor humanity, labor for mortal good?
John Keats
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Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness
— John Keats
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Oh what can ail thee, wretched wight, / Alone and palely loitering; / The sedge is withered from the lake, / And no birds sing.
— John Keats
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Should ever the fine-eyed maid to me be kind; Ah! surely it must be whenever I find; Some flowery spot, sequestered, wild, romantic; That often must have seen a poet frantic.
— John Keats
Eyed
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Much have I traveled in the realms of gold, and many goodly states and kingdoms seen.
— John Keats
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A thing of beauty is a joy forever: its loveliness increases; it will never pass into nothingness.
— John Keats
Beauty
Forever
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