John Keats Quotes
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O magic sleep! O comfortable bird,That broodest o’er the troubled sea of the mindTill it is hush’d and smooth!
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He play'd an ancient ditty long since mute,In Provence call'd 'La belle dame sans mercy.'
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I have two luxuries to brood over in my walks, your loveliness and the hour of my death. O that I could have possession of them both in the same minute.
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The imagination may be compared to Adam's dream - he awoke and found it truth.
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The music, yearning like a God in pain.
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Ever let the Fancy roam,Pleasure never is at home.
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I made a garland for her head,And bracelets too, and fragrant zone;She look'd at me as she did love,And made sweet moan.
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The only means of strengthening one's intellect is to make up one's mind about nothing, to let the mind be a thoroughfare for all thoughts.
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So many, and so many, and such glee.
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A thing of beauty is a joy forever: its loveliness increases; it will never pass into nothingness.
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To SorrowI bade good-morrow,And thought to leave her far away behind;But cheerly, cheerly,She loves me dearly;She is so constant to me, and so kind:I would deceive herAnd so leave her,But ah! she is so constant and so kind.
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In spite of all,Some shape of beauty moves away the pallFrom our dark spirits.
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E’en like the passage of an angel’s tearThat falls through the clear ether silently.
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Nothing is finer for the purposes of great productions than a very gradual ripening of the intellectual powers.
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Sweet are the pleasures that to verse belong,And doubly sweet a brotherhood in song.
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The excellency of every art is its intensity, capable of making all disagreeable evaporate.
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To his sightThe husk of natural objects opens quiteTo the core; and every secret essence thereReveals the elements of good and fair;Making him see, where Learning hath no light.
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I met a lady in the meads,Full beautiful - a faery's child,Her hair was long, her foot was light,And her eyes were wild.
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It keeps eternal whisperings aroundDesolate shores, and with its mighty swellGluts twice ten thousand Caverns, till the spellOf Hecate leaves them their old shadowy sound.
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Bright star! would I were stedfast as thou art-Not in lone splendour hung aloft the nightAnd watching with eternal lids apart,Like nature's patient, sleepless Eremite,The moving waters at their priestlike taskOf pure ablution round earth's human shores.
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Every mental pursuit takes its reality and worth from the ardour of the pursuer.
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Now a soft kiss - Aye, by that kiss, I vow an endless bliss.
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I am certain of nothing but the holiness of the heart's affections, and the truth of imagination.
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Call the world if you please 'The vale of soul-making.'