Sublime
An inspiration engine for ideas
As to the poetical Character itself (I mean that sort of which, if I am any thing, I am a Member; that sort distinguished from the wordsworthian or egotistical sublime; which is a thing per se and stands alone) it is not itself - it has no self - it is every thing and nothing - It has no character - it enjoys light and shade; it lives in gusto, be
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“My imagination is a monastery and I am its monk[.]”
(John Keats in a letter to Percy Bysshe Shelley, August 16, 1820)
The poet John Keats once wrote to a friend of his named Bailey: “I am certain of nothing but the holiness of the Heart’s affection and the truth of Imagination—What the imagination seizes as Beauty must be truth—whether it existed before or not.”
Dan Simmons • Hyperion (Hyperion Cantos, Book 1)
John Keats’s poem “This Living Hand”:
D. T. Max • Every Love Story Is a Ghost Story: A Life of David Foster Wallace
the poet John Keats, who wrote: ‘I almost wish we were butterflies and lived but three summer days—three such days with you I could fill with more delight than fifty common years could ever contain.’