John Keats Quotes

My love is selfish. I cannot breathe without you.

... Who alive can say 'Thou art no Poet - mayst not tell thy dreams'? Since every man whose soul is not a clod Hath visions, and would speak, if he had loved, And been well nurtured in his mother tongue.

I am in that temper that if I were under water I would scarcely kick to come to the top.

Talking of Pleasure, this moment I was writing with one hand, and with the other holding to my Mouth a Nectarine - how good how fine. It went down all pulpy, slushy, oozy, all its delicious embonpoint melted down my throat like a large, beatified Strawberry.

O latest born and loveliest vision far of all Olympus' faded hierarchy.

You are always new. The last of your kisses was even the sweetest; the last smile the brightest; the last movement the gracefullest.

A thing of beauty is a joy forever: its loveliness increases; it will never pass into nothingness.

You have absorb'd me. I have a sensation at the present moment as though I was dissolving.

I must choose between despair and Energy──I choose the latter.

I have been astonished that men could die martyrs for their religion-- I have shuddered at it, I shudder no more. I could be martyred for my religion. Love is my religion and I could die for that. I could die for you. My Creed is Love and you are its only tenet.

Open afresh your rounds of starry folds, Ye ardent Marigolds.

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.

My creed is love and you are its only tenet.

We hate poetry that has a palpable design upon us - and if we do not agree, seems to put its hand in its breeches pocket. Poetry should be great & unobtrusive, a thing which enters into one's soul, and does not startle it or amaze it with itself but with its subject. - How beautiful are the retired flowers! how would they lose their beauty were they to throng into the highway crying out, "admire me I am a violet! dote upon me I am a primrose!"

I never can feel certain of any truth, but from a clear perception of its beauty.

Who would wish to be among the commonplace crowd of the little famous - who are each individually lost in a throng made up of themselves?

Nothing ever becomes real till experienced – even a proverb is no proverb until your life has illustrated it

Music's golden tongue Flatter'd to tears this aged man and poor.

The air is all softness.

There is nothing stable in the world; uproar's your only music.

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.

A moment's thought is passion's passing knell.

I have met with women whom I really think would like to be married to a Poem and to be given away by a Novel.

All writing is a form of prayer.

Darkling I listen; and, for many a time I have been half in love with easeful Death, Called him soft names in many a muse' d rhyme, To take into the air my quiet breath; Now more than ever seems it rich to die, To cease upon the midnight with no pain, While thou art pouring forth thy soul abroad In such an ecstasy!

A quote about drinking is a joy forever

I have good reason to be content, for thank God I can read and perhaps understand Shakespeare to his depths.

--then on the shore Of the wide world I stand alone, and think Till love and fame to nothingness do sink.

Nothing ever becomes real till it is experienced.

The thought, the deadly thought of solitude.

Load every rift with ore.

The day is gone, and all its sweets are gone!

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.

I wish I was either in your arms full of faith, or that a Thunder bolt would strike me.

A thing of beauty is a joy forever.

You are always new. THe last of your kisses was ever the sweetest; the last smile the brightest; the last movement the gracefullest. When you pass'd my window home yesterday, I was fill'd with as much admiration as if I had then seen you for the first time...Even if you did not love me I could not help an entire devotion to you.

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

But let me see thee stoop from heaven on wings That fill the sky with silver glitterings!

Thou foster-child of Silence and slow Time.

My chest of books divide amongst my friends.

I could be martyred for my religion. Love is my religion and I could die for that. I could die for you.

That queen of secrecy, the violet.

Should Disappointment, parent of Despair, Strive for her son to seize my careless heart; When, like a cloud, he sits upon the air, Preparing on his spell-bound prey to dart: Chase him away, sweet Hope, with visage bright, And fright him as the morning frightens night!

She hurried at his words, beset with fears, For there were sleeping dragons all around.

A man's life of any worth is a continual allegory, and very few eyes can see the mystery of his life, a life like the scriptures, figurative.

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.

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.

Nothing is finer for the purposes of great productions than a very gradual ripening of the intellectual powers.