Quotes from John Keats

Here lies one whose name was writ in water.

I would sooner fail than not be among the greatest.

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 ferment, the character undecided, the way of life uncertain.

I wish to believe in immortality - I wish to live with you forever.

There is a budding morrow in midnight.

Soft closer of our eyes! Low murmur of tender lullabies!

There is a budding tomorrow in midnight.

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, and very fresh experience points out some form of error which we shall afterward carefully avoid.

Faded the flower and all its budded charms,Faded the sight of beauty from my eyes,Faded the shape of beauty from my arms,Faded the voice, warmth, whiteness, paradise!Vanishd unseasonably

O fret not after knowledge - I have none, and yet my song comes native with the warmth. O fret not after knowledge - I have none, and yet the Evening listens.

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.

A man should have the fine point of his soul taken off to become fit for this world.

It appears to me that almost any man may like the spider spin from his own inwards his own airy citadel.

A man's life of any worth is a continual allegory.

Though a quarrel in the streets is a thing to be hated, the energies displayed in it are fine; the commonest man shows a grace in his quarrel.

The opinion I have of the generality of women--who appear to me as children to whom I would rather give a sugar plum than my time, forms a barrier against matrimony which I rejoice in.

I have met with women who I really think would like to be married to a poem and to be given away by a novel.

Why employ intelligent and highly paid ambassadors and then go and do their work for them? You don't buy a canary and sing yourself.

You are always new, the last of your kisses was ever the sweetest.

The genius of poetry must work out its own salvation in a man; it cannot be matured by law and precept, but by sensation and watchfulness in itself. That which is creative must create itself.

And when thou art weary I'll find thee a bed, Of mosses and flowers to pillow thy head.

Thou art a dreaming thing, A fever of thyself.

I am sailing with thee through the dizzy sky! How beautiful thou art!

... for, by all the stars That tend thy bidding, I do think the bars That kept my spirit in are burst - that I Am sailing with thee through the dizzy sky! How beautiful thou art!