Favorite Quotations ~ John Keats (original) (raw)
~�John Keats John Keats
"You are always new to me." ~ John Keats
A man�s life is a continual allegory.
There is an awful warmth about my heart like a load of immortality.
Heard melodies are sweet, but those unheard are sweeter.
Poetry should please by a fine excess and not by singularity. It should strike the reader as a wording of his own highest thoughts, and appear almost as a remembrance.
Beauty is truth, truth beauty � that is all Ye know on earth, and all ye need know. Ode on a Grecian Urn
Oh, for a life of sensations rather than thoughts.
I have good reason to be content, for thank God I can read and perhaps understand Shakespeare to his depths.
Many a time I have been half in love with easeful Death. Ode to a Nightingale
Is there another life? Shall I awake and find all this a dream? There must be, we cannot be created for this sort of suffering.
Do you not see how necessary a world of pains and troubles is to school an intelligence and make it a soul?
I am in that temper that if I were under water I would scarcely kick to come to the top.
I cannot exist without you. I am forgetful of everything but seeing you again�my life seems to stop there�I see no further.
Wine is only sweet to happy men.
There is nothing stable in the world; uproar's your only music.
There is a budding morrow in midnight.
The setting sun will always set me to rights.
The Poetry of earth is never dead. On the Grasshopper and Cricket
The flower must drink the nature of the soil before it can put forth its blossoming.
A Poet... has no Identity--he is continually.. filling some other Body--the Sun, the Moon, the Sea and Men and Women.
All clean and comfortable I sit down to write.
Everything that reminds me of her goes through me like a spear.
Failure, is in a sense, the highway to success, inasmuch as every discovery of what is false leads us to seek earnestly after what is true.
Give me books, French wine, fruit, fine weather and a little music out of doors, played by somebody I do not know.
I almost wish we were butterflies and liv'd but three summer days--three such days with you I could fill with more delight than fifty common years could ever contain.
The Cricket�s song, in warmth increasing ever. On the Grasshopper and Cricket