Date: 1848

The mind's palate may lose "its gust"

— Keats, John (1795-1821)

Date: 1848

"Byron! how sweetly sad thy melody! / Attuning still the soul to tenderness"

— Keats, John (1795-1821)

Date: 1848

We may like on our fled soul, like a "mother wild" on an "infant child" in an "eagle's claws"

— Keats, John (1795-1821)

Date: 1848

"O that our dreamings all, of sleep or wake, / Would all their colours from the sunset take: / From something of material sublime, / Rather than shadow our own soul's day-time / In the dark void of night."

— Keats, John (1795-1821)

Date: 1848

" Yet can I think of thee till thought is blind."

— Keats, John (1795-1821)

Date: 1848

"I cannot see, / Fancy is dead and drunken at its goal"

— Keats, John (1795-1821)

Date: 1848

"When I have fears that I may cease to be / Before my pen has glean'd my teeming brain [...] "

— Keats, John (1795-1821)

Date: 1850

Imagination is "reason in her most exalted mood"

— Wordsworth, William (1770-1850)

Date: 1850

"This faculty [Imagination/Reason] hath been the feeding source / Of our long labour: we have traced the stream / From the blind cavern whence is faintly heard /Its natal murmur; followed it to light / And open day"

— Wordsworth, William (1770-1850)

Date: 1850

"My own voice cheered me, and, far more, the mind's / Internal echo of the imperfect sound; / To both I listened, drawing from them both / A cheerful confidence in things to come"

— Wordsworth, William (1770-1850)