Quotes from John Keats

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

Yes, in spite of all, Some shape of beauty moves away the pall From out dark spirits.

If I am destined to be happy with you here—how short is the longest Life—I wish to believe in immortality—I wish to live with you for ever.

Then felt I like like some watcher of the skies When a new planet swims into his ken; Like stout Cortes when with eagle eyes He star'd at the Pacific-and all his men Look'd at each other with a wild surmise Silent upon a peak in Darien

I have had a thousand kisses, for which with my whole soul I thank love—but if you should deny me the thousand and first—'t would put me to the proof how great a misery I could live through.

Thou, silent form, dost tease us out of thought As doth eternity...

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!

Reading makes immigrants of us all. It takes us away from home, but, most important, it finds homes for us everywhere.

The open sky sits upon our senses like a sapphire crown - the Air is our robe of state - the Earth is our throne, and the Sea a mighty minstrel playing before it.

I leaped headlong into the Sea, and thereby have become more acquainted with the Soundings, the quicksands, and the rocks, than if I had stayed upon the green shore, and piped a silly pipe, and took tea and comfortable advice.

Knowledge enormous makes a god of me.

When I have fears that I may ceace to be, Before my pen has gleaned my teaming brain.

Wherein lies happiness? In that which becks Our ready minds to fellowship divine, A fellowship with essence; till we shine, Full alchemiz'd, and free of space. Behold The clear religion of heaven!

I have clung To nothing, lov'd a nothing, nothing seen Or felt but a great dream!

Where are the songs of Spring? Aye, where are they? Think not of them; thou has thy music too.

Ay, in the very temple of Delight Veil'd Melancholy has her sovran shrine, Though seen of none save him whose strenuous tongue Can burst Joy's grape against his palate fine; His soul shall taste the sadness of her might, And be among her cloudy trophies hung.

Blinded alike from sunshine and from rain, As though a rose should shut, and be a bud again

For axioms in philosophy are not axioms until they are proved upon our pulses.

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!

No one can usurp the heights... But those to whom the miseries of the world Are misery, and will not let them rest.

I was too much in solitude, and consequently was obliged to be in continual burning of thought, as an only resource.

What is this world's delight, Lightening that mocks the night, Brief as even as bright

Open wide the mind's cage-door, She'll dart forth, and cloudward soar.

I had a dove and the sweet dove died; And I have thought it died of grieving: O, what could it grieve for? Its feet were tied, With a silken thread of my own hand's weaving.