John Keats Quotes
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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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Pleasure is oft a visitant; but painClings cruelly to us.
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Nothing ever becomes real till it is experienced.
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The excellency of every art is its intensity, capable of making all disagreeable evaporate.
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Sweet are the pleasures that to verse belong,And doubly sweet a brotherhood in song.
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Ever let the Fancy roam,Pleasure never is at home.
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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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Sudden a thought came like a full-blown rose,Flushing his brow, and in his pained heartMade purple riot.
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Praise or blame has but a momentary effect on the man whose love of beauty in the abstract makes him a severe critic on his own works.
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St. Agnes’ Eve - Ah, bitter chill it was!The owl, for all his feathers, was a-cold;The hare limp’d trembling through the frozen grass,And silent was the flock in woolly fold.
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Call the world if you please 'The vale of soul-making.'
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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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I have nothing to speak of but my self-and what can I say but what I feel
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In drear-nighted December,Too happy, happy tree,Thy branches ne'er rememberTheir green felicity.
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What the imagination seizes as beauty must be truth.
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And they are gone: ay, ages long agoThese lovers fled away into the storm.
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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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And then there creptA little noiseless noise among the leaves,Born of the very sigh that silence heaves.
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That large utterance of the early gods!
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My imagination is a monastery and I am its monk.