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"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."

Bright and delicate may just be the two perfect words to describe this book. With his bare words, Keats creates pictures that are so vividly beautiful and hurtful, that they cast an excruciatingly bright light over feelings such as love, desperation, jealousy, torment and desire. As a glittering firework the words of Keats unfold with such a power and magnanimity that it is impossible to look away.

"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."

I mostly read this collection for Keats' letters, as I've read his poetry many times before; over and over again. His letters I've only known in fragments and pieces, excerpts and quotes, so I wanted to read them in their full glory - and glorious, they truly are.
In his private letters to Fanny, Keats often shifts between elegant and well-turned phrases to violent and wildly composed sentences, urging Fanny to love him and only him. Keats is jealous, possessive, paranoid and scared, but he is also poetical, romantic, devoted and thoughtful. These letters, more than anything, capture a man in agonizingly deep love, trying so hard to hold on to his love, while he feels his life fading away.

To be in love is not a historic event. But these letters and poems written by a dying man so deeply in love are historical. I don't think anyone has ever felt anything so deeply, as Keats felt his love for Fanny. Indeed, no one has ever written anything as powerful, bright and delicate on the subject of love as this.