Quotes from John Keats

Here lies one whose name was writ on water.

How does the poet speak to men with power, but by being still more a man than they

A drainless shower Of light is poesy: 'tis the supreme of power; 'Tis might half slumbering on its own right arm.

To the very last, he [Napoleon] had a kind of idea; that, namely, of la carrière ouverte aux talents, - the tools to him that can handle them.

You are always new to me.

I could be martyred for my religion. Love is my religion and I could die for that. I could die for you.

His religion at best is an anxious wish,-like that of Rabelais, a great Perhaps.

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 am certain of nothing but the holiness of the heart's affections, and the truth of imagination.

I have so much of you in my heart.

I love you the more in that I believe you had liked me for my own sake and for nothing else.

She press'd his hand in slumber; so once more He could not help but kiss her and adore.

My creed is love and you are its only tenet.

An extensive knowledge is needful to thinking people-it takes away the heat and fever; and helps, by widening speculation, to ease the burden of the mystery.

I find that I can have no enjoyment in the world but the continual drinking of knowledge. I find there is no worthy pursuit but the idea of doing some good for the world.

Conversation is not a search after knowledge, but an endeavor at effect.

Knowledge enormous makes a god of me.

A thing of beauty is a joy forever: its loveliness increases; it will never pass into nothingness.

You speak of Lord Byron and me; there is this great difference between us. He describes what he sees I describe what I imagine. Mine is the hardest task.

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.

'Tis the witching hour of night, Orbed is the moon and bright. And the stars they glisten, glisten, Seeming with bright eyes to listen- For what listen they?

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

To one who has been long in city pent, 'Tis very sweet to look into the fair And open face of heaven, — to breathe a prayer Full in the smile of the blue firmament.

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.