John Keats Quotes
A thing of beauty is a joy forever.
I am certain of nothing but the holiness of the Heart’s affections and the truth of Imagination.
Do you not see how necessary a world of pains and troubles is to school an intelligence and make it a soul?
A poet is the most unpoetical of anything in existence.
The poetry of the earth is never dead.
Touch has a memory.
Beauty is truth, truth beauty,—that is all ye know on earth, and all ye need to know.
Ode to a Nightingale
Ode on a Grecian Urn
La belle dame sans merci
When I have fears that I may cease to be
Heard melodies are sweet, but those unheard are sweeter.
Beauty is the sole legitimate province of the poem.
I have been astonished that men could die martyrs for religion – I have shuddered at it. I shudder no more – I could be martyred for my religion – Love is my religion – I could die for that.
I am in that temper that if I were under water I would scarcely kick to come to the top.
You speak of Lord Byron and me; there is this great difference between us. He describes what he sees—I describe what I imagine.
Give me books, fruit, French wine and fine weather and a little music out of doors, played by somebody I do not know.
The excellency of every art is its intensity.
Load every rift with ore.
O for a life of sensations rather than of thoughts!
Love is my religion—I could die for it.
Forlorn! the very word is like a bell.
My heart fills up with tears when I see thee
A man’s life of any worth is a continual allegory.
The poetry of the earth is never dead.
A thing of beauty is a joy forever.
I wish to beleave in immortality—I wish to live with you forever.
Love is my religion.
I am of a constitution so general, that it consorts and sympathizes with all things.
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.
I love not man the less, but Nature more.
Pleasure is oft a visitant; but pain / Clings cruelly to us.
Why did I laugh tonight? No voice will tell.
A thing of beauty is a constant source of joy.
I am certain of nothing but the holiness of the heart’s affections, and the truth of the imagination.
I have two luxuries to brood over in my walks, your loveliness and the hour of my death.
Give me books, French wine, fruit, fine weather, and a little music played out of doors by somebody I do not know.
Soul has a hunger too, I’m sure, and a need for stirring.
A thing of beauty is a constant joy.
The imagination of a boy is healthy, and the mature imagination of a man is healthy; but there is a space of life between, in which the soul is in a ferment, the character undecided, the way of life uncertain, the ambition thick-sighted: thence proceeds mawkishness.
A poet is the most unpoetical of anything in existence; because he has no identity—he is continually in for and filling some other body.
When I behold, upon the night’s starred face, / Huge cloudy symbols of a high romance
A man’s heart aches amidst the vast quantity of unexperienced pleasure which besets him.
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.
Life is uncertain: death is the saddest thing of all.
A thing of beauty is a source of eternal joy.
A thing of beauty is a constant joy.
Beauty is truth, truth beauty.
Poetry should be great and unobtrusive, a thing which enters into one’s soul, and does not startle it or amaze it with itself, but with its subject.
Philosophy will clip an Angel’s wings, / Conquer all mysteries by rule and line, / Empty the haunted air, and gnomed mine– / Unweave a rainbow.