My imagination is a monastery, and I am its monk - John Keats

The Public - a thing I cannot help looking upon as an enemy, and which I cannot address without feelings of hostility.

My love has made me selfish. I cannot exist without you – I am forgetful of everything but seeing you again – my Life seems to stop there – I see no further. You have absorb’d me. I have a sensation at the present moment as though I was dissolving – I should be exquisitely miserable without the hope of soon seeing you … I have been astonished that Men could die Martyrs for religion – I have shudder’d at it – I shudder no more – I could be martyr’d for my Religion – Love is my religion – I could die for that – I could die for you.

And for her eyes: what could such eyes do there But weep, and weep, that they were born so fair?