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I Cannot Exist Without You. I Am Forgetful Of Everything But Seeing You Again.
-John Keats
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I Cannot Exist Without

John Keats
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I Cannot Exist Without You. I Am Forgetful Of Everything But Seeing You Again.

Understanding the Quote: "i cannot exist without you. i am forgetful of everything but seeing..."

This quote by John Keats reflects deeply on the theme of love. It connects to the universal human journey of purpose, motivation, and reflection. Often categorized under Love, Crush, Without You, the quote offers insight, emotional clarity, and intellectual inspiration to readers worldwide.

Whether you’re a student exploring new ideas, a leader trying to motivate your team, or someone seeking direction in life — this quote provides value. It resonates because it’s more than words — it’s a bridge between experience and wisdom. It shows how John Keats interprets life's core challenges and triumphs.

Lessons From the Quote

This quote teaches resilience and focus. It reminds readers that no matter where they stand in life, reflection and self-awareness lead to growth. Each word has meaning, and when studied, it becomes clear how impactful thoughtful language can be.

About John Keats

John Keats is celebrated for insightful thoughts on love and crush. Their legacy lives on through writings that guide, comfort, and inspire. Discover more on their profile page.

Actionable Takeaways

  • Reflect on how this quote applies to your current life path.
  • Share the message with someone who needs inspiration.
  • Write your thoughts on this quote in a journal or blog post.
  • Use it as a daily affirmation or reminder.

Closing Thoughts

Quotes like this endure because they capture universal truths. They comfort us in solitude and empower us in groups. Carry this quote forward — live by its wisdom, share its message, and keep its essence alive.

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Topic
Love
Crush
Without You
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The Genius Of Poetry Must Work Out Its Own Salvation In A Man; It Cannot Be Matured By Law And Precept, But By Sensation And Watchfulness In Itself. That Which Is Creative Must Create Itself.
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Bright Star, Would I Were Steadfast As Thou Art-- Not In Lone Splendour Hung Aloft The Night And Watching, With Eternal Lids Apart, Like Nature's Patient, Sleepless Eremite.
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We Read Fine Things But Never Feel Them To The Full Until We Have Gone The Same Steps As The Author.
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There Is A Budding Tomorrow In Midnight.
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...yes, In Spite Of All, Some Shape Of Beauty Moves Away The Pall From Out Dark Spirits.
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Why Employ Intelligent And Highly Paid Ambassadors And Then Go And Do Their Work For Them? You Don't Buy A Canary And Sing Yourself.
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My Imagination Is A Monastery And I Am Its Monk.
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I Will Give You A Definition Of A Proud Man: He Is A Man Who Has Neither Vanity Nor Wisdom One Filled With Hatreds Cannot Be Vain, Neither Can He Be Wise.
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To Stay Youthful, Stay Useful.
I Have Good Reason To Be Content, For Thank God I Can Read And Perhaps Understand Shakespeare To His Depths.
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Beauty Is Truth, Truth Beauty,-that Is All Ye Know On Earth, And All Ye Need To Know.
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A Poet Is The Most Unpoetical Of Anything In Existence; Because He Has No Identity He Is Continually Informing And Filling Some Other Body.
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Let Us Not Go Hurrying About And Collecting Honey, Bee-like Buzzing Here And There For A Knowledge Of What Is Not To Be Arrived At, But Let Us Open Our Leaves Like A Flower, And Be Passive And Receptive, Budding Patiently Under The Eye Of Apollo, And Taking Hints From Every Noble Insect That Favours Us With A Visit - Sap Will Be Given Us For Meat And Dew For Drink.
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Don't Be Discouraged By A Failure. It Can Be A Positive Experience. Failure Is, In A Sense, The Highway To Success, Inasmuch As Every Discovery Of What Is False Leads Us To Seek Earnestly After What Is True, And Every Fresh Experience Points Out Some Form Of Error Which We Shall Afterwards Carefully Avoid.
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I Cannot Exist Without You. I Am Forgetful Of Everything But Seeing You Again.
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Let Us Away, My Love, With Happy Speed; There Are No Ears To Hear, Or Eyes To See, - Drown'd All In Rhenish And The Sleepy Mead. Awake! Arise! My Love And Fearless Be, For O'er The Southern Moors I Have A Home For Thee.
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Ask Yourself My Love Whether You Are Not Very Cruel To Have So Entrammelled Me, So Destroyed My Freedom. Will You Confess This In The Letter You Must Write Immediately, And Do All You Can To Console Me In It — Make It Rich As A Draught Of Poppies To Intoxicate Me —write The Softest Words And Kiss Them That I May At Least Touch My Lips Where Yours Have Been. For Myself I Know Not How To Express My Devotion To So Fair A Form: I Want A Brighter Word Than Bright, A Fairer Word Than Fair.
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I Shall Soon Be Laid In The Quiet Grave - Thank God For The Quiet Grave
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I Find That I Can Have No Enjoyment In The World But The Continual Drinking Of Knowledge. I Find There Is No Worthy Pursuit But The Idea Of Doing Some Good For The World.
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He, Who Is Gone, Was One Of The Very Kindest Friends I Possessed, And Yet He Was Not Kinder Perhaps To Me, Than To Others. His Intense Mind And Powerful Feelings Would, I Truly Believe, Have Done The World Some Service, Had His Life Been Spared But He Was Of Too Sensitive A Nature And Thus He Was Destroyed!
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Now A Soft Kiss - Aye, By That Kiss, I Vow An Endless Bliss.
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How Astonishingly Does The Chance Of Leaving The World Improve A Sense Of Its Natural Beauties Upon Us. Like Poor Falstaff, Although I Do Not 'babble,' I Think Of Green Fields; I Muse With The Greatest Affection On Every Flower I Have Know From My Infancy - Their Shapes And Colours Are As New To Me As If I Had Just Created Them With Superhuman Fancy.
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Much Have I Travell'd In The Realms Of Gold.
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I See A Lily On Thy Brow, With Anguish Moist And Fever Dew; And On Thy Cheek A Fading Rose Fast Withereth Too.
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He Who Saddens At Thought Of Idleness Cannot Be Idle, / And He's Awake Who Thinks Himself Asleep.
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I Almost Wish We Were Butterflies And Liv'd But Three Summer Days - Three Such Days With You I Could Fill With More Delight Than Fifty Common Years Could Ever Contain.
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All My Clear-eyed Fish, Golden, Or Rainbow-sided, Or Purplish, Vermilion-tail'd, Or Finn'd With Silvery Gauze... My Charming Rod, My Potent River Spells.
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A Little Noiseless Noise Among The Leaves, Born Of The Very Sigh That Silence Heaves.
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Much Have I Traveled In The Realms Of Gold, And Many Goodly States And Kingdoms Seen.
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I Cannot See What Flowers Are At My Feet, Nor What Soft Incense Hangs Upon The Boughs, But, In Embalmed Darkness, Guess Each Sweet.
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Asleep In Lap Of Legends Old.
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When The Melancholy Fit Shall Fall Sudden From Heaven Like A Weeping Cloud, That Fosters The Droop-headed Flowers All, And Hides The Green Hill In An April Shroud; Then Glut Thy Sorrow On A Morning Rose.
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A Quote About Drinking Is A Joy Forever
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Forever
The Silver, Snarling Trumpets 'gan To Chide.
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Climbing
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Thinking
The Days Of Peace And Slumberous Calm Are Fled.
Peace
War
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Death
Sleep
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I Wish To Believe In Immortality-i Wish To Live With You Forever.
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But Let Me See Thee Stoop From Heaven On Wings That Fill The Sky With Silver Glitterings!
Sky
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Purpose
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Lying
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Death
Suicide
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Love
Life
Beauty
With A Great Poet The Sense Of Beauty Overcomes Every Other Consideration, Or Rather Obliterates All Consideration.
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Overcoming
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Literary Men Are . . . A Perpetual Priesthood.
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Priesthood
Perpetual
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Men
Islands
You Have Absorb'd Me. I Have A Sensation At The Present Moment As Though I Was Dissolving.
Moments
Forgetful
Dissolving
Load Every Rift With Ore.
Rift
Crafts
Load
Here Are Sweet Peas, On Tiptoe For A Flight; With Wings Of Gentle Flush O'er Delicate White, And Taper Fingers Catching At All Things, To Bind Them All About With Tiny Rings.
Sweet
Wings
White
The Poetry Of Earth Is Never Dead When All The Birds Are Faint With The Hot Sun, And Hide I Cooling Trees, A Voice Will Run From Hedge To Hedge About The New-mown Mead.
Running
Voice
Bird
Call The World If You Please "the Vale Of Soul-making." Then You Will Find Out The Use Of The World.
Soul
Use
World
A Poem Needs Understanding Through The Senses. The Point Of Diving In A Lake Is Not Immediately To Swim To The Shore; It’s To Be In The Lake, To Luxuriate In The Sensation Of Water. You Do Not Work The Lake Out. It Is An Experience Beyond Thought. Poetry Soothes And Emboldens The Soul To Accept Mystery.
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Water
Poetry
Tall Oaks Branch Charmed By The Earnest Stars Dream And So Dream All Night Without A Stir.
Dream
Stars
Night
Through The Sad Heart Of Ruth, When Sick For Home She Stood In Tears Amid The Alien Corn; The Same That Ofttimes Hath Charm'd Magic Casements, Opening On The Foam Of Perilous Seas, In Faery Lands Forlorn.
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Home
Sea
Wine Is Only Sweet To Happy Men.
Happiness
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Wine
My Passions Are All Asleep From My Having Slumbered Till Nearly Eleven And Weakened The Animal Fiber All Over Me To A Delightful Sensation About Three Degrees On This Sight Of Faintness - If I Had Teeth Of Pearl And The Breath Of Lilies I Should Call It Languor - But As I Am I Must Call It Laziness. In This State Of Effeminacy The Fibers Of The Brain Are Relaxed In Common With The Rest Of The Body, And To Such A Happy Degree That Pleasure Has No Show Of Enticement And Pain No Unbearable Frown. Neither Poetry, Nor Ambition, Nor Love Have Any Alertness Of Countenance As They Pass By Me.
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There Is Not A Fiercer Hell Than The Failure In A Great Object.
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Literature
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There Is Nothing Stable In The World; Uproar's Your Only Music.
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Life And Love
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It Is A Flaw In Happiness To See Beyond Our Bourn, - It Forces Us In Summer Skies To Mourn, It Spoils The Singing Of The Nightingale.
Summer
Sky
Singing
A Thing Of Beauty Is A Joy Forever: Its Loveliness Increases; It Will Never Pass Into Nothingness.
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Beauty
Beautiful
Pensive They Sit, And Roll Their Languid Eyes.
Eye
Bored
Pensive
Fast Fading Violets Cover'd Up In Leaves; And Mid-may's Eldest Child, The Coming Musk-rose, Full Of Dewy Wine, The Murmurous Haunt Of Flies On Summer Eves.
Summer
Children
Wine
Was It A Vision Or A Waking Dream? Fled Is That Music--do I Wake Or Sleep?
Love
Dream
Sleep
What Is There In Thee, Moon! That Thou Should'st Move My Heart So Potently?
Moving
Heart
Moon
Bards Of Passion And Of Mirth, Ye Have Left Your Souls On Earth! Have Ye Souls In Heaven Too, Double-lived In Regions New?
Passion
Heaven
Soul
My Love Is Selfish. I Cannot Breathe Without You.
Selfish
Love Is
Breathe
The Genius Of Shakespeare Was An Innate University.
Genius
University
Innate
Health Is My Expected Heaven.
Health
Heaven
Expected
When I Have Fears That I May Ceace To Be, Before My Pen Has Gleaned My Teaming Brain".
Death
Brain
May
Wherein Lies Happiness? In That Which Becks Our Ready Minds To Fellowship Divine, A Fellowship With Essence; Till We Shine, Full Alchemiz’d, And Free Of Space. Behold The Clear Religion Of Heaven!
Lying
Essence
Space
Knowledge Enormous Makes A God Of Me.
Enormous
Even Bees, The Little Almsmen Of Spring Bowers, Know There Is Richest Juice In Poison-flowers.
Spring
Flower
Poison
My Chest Of Books Divide Amongst My Friends.
Book
Divides
My Friends
Adieu! Adieu! Thy Plaintive Anthem Fades Past The Near Meadows, Over The Still Stream, Up The Hill-side; And Now 'tis Buried Deep In The Next Valley-glades: Was It A Vision, Or A Waking Dream? Fled Is That Music:--do I Wake Or Sleep?
Dream
Sleep
Past
No One Can Usurp The Heights... But Those To Whom The Miseries Of The World Are Misery, And Will Not Let Them Rest.
World
Height
Misery
A Man's Life Of Any Worth Is A Continual Allegory.
Men
Allegory
I Don't Need The Stars In The Night I Found My Treasure All I Need Is You By My Side So Shine Forever
Love
Stars
Night
Life Is But A Day; A Fragile Dewdrop On Its Perilous Way From A Tree's Summit.
Tree
Way
Life Is
The Uttered Part Of A Man's Life, Let Us Always Repeat, Bears To The Unuttered, Unconscious Part A Small Unknown Proportion. He Himself Never Knows It, Much Less Do Others.
Life
Men
Bears
And When Thou Art Weary I'll Find Thee A Bed, Of Mosses And Flowers To Pillow Thy Head.
Art
Flower
Bed
Turn The Key Deftly In The Oiled Wards, And Seal The Hushed Casket Of My Soul.
Keys
Soul
Caskets
Dry Your Eyes O Dry Your Eyes, For I Was Taught In Paradise To Ease My Breast Of Melodies.
Eye
Ease
Dry
Heard Melodies Are Sweet, But Those Unheard Are Sweeter; Therefore, Ye Soft Pipes, Play On; Not To The Sensual Ear, But, More Endear'd, Pipe To The Spirit Ditties Of No Tone.
Sweet
Play
Sensual
Souls Of Poets Dead And Gone, What Elysium Have Ye Known, Happy Field Or Mossy Cavern, Choicer Than The Mermaid Tavern? Have Ye Tippled Drink More Fine Than Mine Host's Canary Wine?
Wine
Mermaid
Soul
My Heart Aches, And A Drowsy Numbness Pains/ My Sense, As Though Of Hemlock I Had Drunk.
Pain
Heart
Sadness
Love In A Hut, With Water And A Crust, Is - Love, Forgive Us! - Cinders, Ashes, Dust.
Life
Dust
Water
And There Shall Be For Thee All Soft Delight That Shadowy Thought Can Win, A Bright Torch, And A Casement Ope At Night, To Let The Warm Love In!
Life
Winning
Night
A Thing Of Beauty Is A Joy Forever.
Happiness
Beauty
Nature
O For Ten Years, That I May Overwhelm / Myself In Poesy; So I May Do The Deed / That My Own Soul Has To Itself Decreed.
Years
Soul
Deeds
I Have So Much Of You In My Heart.
Love
Romantic
Heart
I Never Can Feel Certain Of Any Truth, But From A Clear Perception Of Its Beauty.
Beauty
Truth
Perception
Alas! When Passion Is Both Meek And Wild!
Passion
Meek
Alas
'tis The Witching Hour Of Night, Orbed Is The Moon And Bright. And The Stars They Glisten, Glisten, Seeming With Bright Eyes To Listen- For What Listen They?
Stars
Eye
Science
Death Is Life's High Meed.
Death
Though A Quarrel In The Streets Is A Thing To Be Hated, The Energies Displayed In It Are Fine; The Commonest Man Shows A Grace In His Quarrel.
Hate
Men
Grace
A Hope Beyond The Shadow Of A Dream.
Dream
Hope
Shadow
Its Better To Lose Your Ego To The One You Love Than To Lose The One You Love To Your Ego
Ego
One You Love
Loses
The Air Is All Softness.
Air
Softness
In A Drear-nighted December, Too Happy, Happy Tree, Thy Branches Ne'er Remember Their Green Felicity.
Happiness
Tree
Branches
A Drainless Shower Of Light Is Poesy: 'tis The Supreme Of Power; 'tis Might Half Slumbering On Its Own Right Arm.
Light
Poetry
Half
I Cannot Exist Without You - I Am Forgetful Of Every Thing 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 Were Dissolving... 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. My Creed Is Love And You Are Its Only Tenet - You Have Ravish'd Me Away By A Power I Cannot Resist.
Love
Crush
Men
As The Swiss Inscription Says: Sprechen Ist Silbern, Schweigen Ist Golden,- "speech Is Silvern, Silence Is Golden;" Or, As I Might Rather Express It, Speech Is Of Time, Silence Is Of Eternity.
Time
Silence
Speech
It Keeps Eternal Whisperings Around Desolate Shores
Whispering
Shore
Eternal
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