John Keats: Touch has a memory.
Fanny Brawne: I know it.
John Keats: In what stumbling ways a new soul is begun.
John Keats: I had such a dream last night. I was floating above the trees with my lips connected to those of a beautiful figure, for what seemed like an age. Flowery treetops sprung up beneath us and we rested on them with the lightness of a cloud.
Fanny Brawne: Who was the figure?
John Keats: I must have had my eyes closed because I can't remember.
Fanny Brawne: And yet you remember the treetops.
John Keats: Not so well as I remember the lips.
Fanny Brawne: Whose lips? Were they my lips?
Mrs. Brawne: Mr. Keats knows he cannot like you, he has no living and no income.
Fanny Brawne: I still don't know how to work out a poem.
John Keats: A poem needs understanding through the senses. The point of diving into a lake is not immediately to swim to the shore but to be in the lake, to luxuriate in the sensation of water. You do not work the lake out, it is a experience beyond thought. Poetry soothes and emboldens the soul to accept the mystery.
Fanny Brawne: I love mystery.
John Keats: There is holiness in the heart's affection.
Margaret 'Toots' Brawne: Fanny wants a knife.
Mrs. Brawne: What for?
Margaret 'Toots' Brawne: To kill herself.
