John Keats Quotes

Why, you might read two sonnets, ere they reach
To where the hurrying freshnesses aye preach
A natural sermon o'er their pebbly beds;
Where swarms of minnows show their little heads,
Staying their wavy bodies ’gainst the streams,
To taste the luxury of sunny beams
Temper’d with coolness.

Open afresh your round of starry folds,
Ye ardent marigolds!

And then there crept
A little noiseless noise among the leaves,
Born of the very sigh that silence heaves.

I stood tip-toe upon a little hill,
The air was cooling, and so very still,
That the sweet buds which with a modest pride
Pull droopingly, in slanting curve aside,
Their scantly leaved, and finely tapering stems,
Had not yet lost those starry diadems
Caught from the early sobbing of the morn.

I can scarcely bid you good-bye, even in a letter. I always made an awkward bow. God bless you!

You might curb your magnanimity, and be more of an artist, and load every rift of your subject with ore.

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

"If I should die," said I to myself, "I have left no immortal work behind me — nothing to make my friends proud of my memory — but I have loved the principle of beauty in all things, and if I had had time I would have made myself remembered."

I have been astonished that Men could die Martyrs for religion – I have shudder’d at it – I shudder no more – I could be martyr’d for my Religion – Love is my religion – I could die for that – I could die for you. My Creed is Love and you are its only tenet.

Some think I have lost that poetical ardour and fire 'tis said I once had- the fact is, perhaps I have; but, instead of that, I hope I shall substitute a more thoughtful and quiet power.

I have nothing to speak of but my self-and what can I say but what I feel

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.

Call the world if you please "The vale of soul-making."

I myself am pursuing the same instinctive course as the veriest human animal you can think of — I am, however young, writing at random — straining at particles of light in the midst of a great darkness — without knowing the bearing of any one assertion, of any one opinion. Yet may I not in this be free from sin?

Nothing ever becomes real till it is experienced — Even a proverb is no proverb to you till your Life has illustrated it.